For Your Eyes Only
by Princess of the Pearl
Summary: NOW UPDATED! An unlikely friendship has been formed between the governor's only daughter and the most notorious pirate captain in the Caribbean and with it, a secret correspondance. Longer summary inside. Sparrabeth!
1. The Island

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER ONE—The Island**

**SUMMARY:**Elizabeth is fond of Jack. Jack has a soft spot for Elizabeth. An unlikely friendship has been formed between the governor's only daughter and the most notorious pirate captain in the entire world, and with it, a secret correspondence. Through their writings and sporadic visits, their friendship blossoms into something more. But what about Will? And what should happen if this secret correspondence is discovered by the wrong person?

**DISCLAIMER: **The characters from _Pirates of the Caribbean _do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**RATING: **T (for Teen)

**SHIP: **100 percent Sparrabeth. Willabeth shippers are welcome, but ye have been warned!

**A/N: **Hello all! I developed the idea for this story a while ago, whilst writing "The King's Captain," and I've finally gotten it started! This story will mostly be a series of letters exchanged between the two, with traditional story content in between. Some chapters will **just **have a letter or two in them, while others will be considerably longer. I'm not sure how long this story will be, but it will at least have fifteen chapters.

This story is AU and picks up during the island scene from _Curse of the Black Pearl_. It then quickly moves through the rest of the movie and continues after that. I always felt that Elizabeth was a bit too snippy in the original scene, so I've written her a bit softer and less-guarded, more naive, perhaps.

Enjoy the first chapter and go Sparrabeth!

* * *

The glare of the high, afternoon sun over the sparkling Caribbean waters was blinding. The heat in itself was enough to make a person feel headachy, or faint, at the very least. The wind was slight and wouldn't be picking up for a few hours. With the sun's assistance, the waves were warm and welcoming, yet they yielded few resources. This was not the opportune time to be stranded on a deserted spit of land in the middle of an endless ocean.

There was no limit to the string of profanities running through Captain Jack Sparrow's mind as he trudged ashore, his affects gathered in his arms. Under differing circumstances, his thoughts would have been preoccupied with the sheer, wet undergarment worn by his only female companion, but now was not the time for it. He turned around to see the Black Pearl, _his _bloody ship, sailing off without him.

"That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship," he muttered, tossing his things down into the sand, away from the pull of the waves. "Bloody stupid son-of-a…" he hissed under his breath, though he was uncertain who he was more upset with. He was quite annoyed with himself, for not being clever enough to stop this from happening a second time. He was equally as perturbed with a one Will Turner, for showing up at the opportune moment and then saying a very inopportune thing. Then there was Barbossa, who he was rightfully furious with. And he wasn't forgetting that greasy, flea-ridden, germ-infested primate that had earned his namesake. At the moment, _Hector _seemed the only suitable name for that gross little fur-ball.

"That's it, then." He heard his company, which was decidedly better than last time, sigh raggedly. He glanced over his shoulder to see her plop down in the sand, her clothes making a squishy noise. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her body, rocking slightly. "We're done for."

"I've escaped worse than this," Jack grumbled, kicking his boots off with a bit of difficulty, considering how saturated they were. It was true, that he'd escaped worse predicaments than the one he currently found himself in, but at this point, he had little hope. It was by chance that he got off this wretched little island before and the odds of it happening again were slim to none.

"I'm sure," she murmured, though he was unable to determine the extent of her sarcasm.

He walked a short distance up the beach to where Elizabeth sat, looking up to her face when he heard her breathing grow heavy. He watched with nervous trepidation as her chin quivered and winced when she burst into tears. Jack was quite capable of dueling with enemies twice his size, but emotional females, he had little experience with.

"Now, now," he huffed, moving to sit beside her. He apprehensively placed a hand on her upper back, and to his surprise, she didn't pull away. He felt her body shake with each sob and he frowned. "It'll be alright, 'Lizabeth. We'll find a way."

"Oh, this is all my fault!" she wailed, covering her face with her hands.

"Now, how do you figure that?" Jack asked, scooting forward to better what he could of her face. "As I recall, most of this is young William's fault."

"That's exactly what I mean!" she cried.

Jack's brow twisted. He was quite good at understanding what people said and half of what came out of his own mouth was spoken in a strange, code-like format, but this statement was confusing to him. "Do-tell, then Lizzie. Enlighten me as to how this is _your _fault."

Elizabeth sniffled a few times before wiping her eyes. "Will loves me."

"Aye…"

"He would have never gotten wrapped up into all of this if he didn't! And neither would you, for that matter! So you see, this is entirely my doing."

"I still don't see it," Jack replied, rather matter-of-factly. "Will loves you, that's true. But ye can't take how another person feels upon yerself."

"But I _don't _love him," she sighed, her shoulders falling forward. She sniffled again before continuing. "Well, yes I do, love him, but not in that way. Not the way he loves me. I care for him, deeply, as I always will… but… but…" Her chin quivered again and she buried her face in her lap, the sobs pouring out of her. "I feel so awful!" he heard her wail, her voice muffled.

"Chin up, Lizzie," he said, trying to be gentle and sincere, though he was completely unsure of himself. This was all quite the revelation to him. He tucked his hand under her chin, tilting her tear-streaked face up to his. "So you _don't_ love William. So what?" Her eyes widened at this. "As I see it, he'd love you either way, and either way he'd come to rescue you. Still doesn't make any of this your fault."

"But he came to rescue me and now he'll die because of it," her voice sounded heavy from all the crying. "I feel so responsible…"

"He's a smart lad. He'll find a way out of it," Jack sighed, completely aware of the uncertainty in his voice, though unable to hide it. He looked around at his bleak surroundings while Elizabeth's wide, teary eyes remained fixed on him. What he wouldn't give for a bottle of… A smirk crossed his face.

"What?" Jack glanced down at Elizabeth to see her wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Come, 'Lizabeth." He pushed himself onto his knees, brushing away the sand that had stuck to his damp clothes before rising to his feet. He leaned down and took hold of her hand, pulling her up as well. "Sounds to me like you could use a drink."

* * *

The fire had taken Jack at least an hour to get started, but beneath the twinkling stars and the inky-black sky, it was a thing of beauty. It glowed in the darkness, providing a much needed warmth against the cool breeze of the Caribbean night. Had it not been for the hooping and laughing of two individuals, the princess and the pirate, the world would have felt quite stark and desolate.

Elizabeth let out a holler, something between a delighted yelp and a giggle, before crashing down towards the sand. She grasped hold of Jack's hand, taking him down with her. She giggled furiously and raised her bottle to her lips, taking another swig of the pungent alcohol. He watched her with amused eyes. Years at sea had given him the wherewithal to better hold his liquor, but it was quite apparent that Elizabeth had never touched alcohol before this night.

"So that's all there is to it, then?" she asked rather loudly, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

"People believe what they want to believe," Jack replied, taking a small sip from his own bottle. "The legend had spread before I even made it back to port…" he smirked, "…I jus' did very little to correct them, that's all."

"Tell me something, captain." Elizabeth fell against him, her head on his shoulder. She clumsily reached for his shirt, poking him in the chest. "How did you—" she was interrupted by her own hiccup, to which she giggled before continuing. "How did you get those?"

Jack's dark eyes fluttered down to the bullet-shaped scars on his chest. "Some other time, Liz."

"No!" she whined. "Tell me now? Pleeeeaaaasssseee?"

"If I tell you now, luv," he smirked, "will you remember tomorrow morning?" Her eyebrows knotted together as if she were in deep thought before a smile broke out onto her face and she laughed.

"Shh!" She held one finger to her lip and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm going to kiss you, Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain _Jack Sparrow," he reminded her. She nodded and smiled before squeezing her eyes shut and puckering her lips. "Open yer eyes, Elizabeth," he told her, a chuckle wafting over his words. She did as she was told, wavering in her seat. While a kiss from the uniquely beautiful Elizabeth Swann was more than appetizing, it was another thing she likely wouldn't remember in the morning, and if she did, was bound to be something she'd regret. He didn't want to be that to her, a mistake in a moment of weakness. "You really want to know about me scars?" he asked her.

Elizabeth nodded, a pleased look on her face. She brought the bottle close to her lips but paused, her eyes growing wide and glossy. "I'll never have any scars!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. "We'll be stuck here 'til we die!"

Jack's face fell as she dropped the bottle in the sand, watching it roll down towards the waves. He didn't know much about Elizabeth, but one thing he knew was that he was quite opposed to the sound of her crying.

"Nonsense," he said softly, holding his arm out. She obediently scooted close to him, letting her face bury against his neck as she cried and cried. He said nothing, for he knew she wouldn't heed his words of comfort anyways, but instead ran his hand up and down her back until her sobs transitioned into a series of broken hiccups and staggered breathing. He waited patiently and silently for her breathing to steady before looking down at her. She'd fallen asleep in his arms. The governor's daughter had fallen asleep in the arms of a pirate… he grinned smugly to himself. If her father could see her now…

Perhaps that's how she started out, as _just _the prim, prissy governor's daughter. But he couldn't help but feel like she was more than that, like she was destined for other things, different things… better things. Jack had learned over the years to trust his instincts and now they were telling him that there was more to Elizabeth Swann than met the eye. In the short time that he'd known her, he'd witnessed a fiercely independent young woman who was brave and strong. She had a clear definition of her opinions and stood up for what she believed it, whether or not it was what society deemed proper.

That day on the peer, not so long ago, he watched with bewilderment as she argued with her father _and _the commodore, fighting for what she thought was right. He admired that, especially in a woman. It didn't stop him from using her to escape just moments later, but what he saw from her then only encouraged to stimulate him more. The fierce defiance in her eyes as she slung his hat over his head and fastened his affects around his shoulder was electrifying. If he had the time or the means, he likely would have slung her over his shoulder and taken her with him, for her striking beauty was just as tempting as her character.

Jack had always been a great admirer of women, but something about this particular girl was different. He didn't know what it was yet and wasn't sure if he would _ever _know what it was, but he knew one thing for certain: he would not let a rose in a world full of daisies wilt and die. Finding a way off this abject little island might sign his death warrant, but for once in his life, he was determined to do the right thing, for her sake at least. His trusted instincts were telling him that Elizabeth was destined for bigger and better things, and he would make sure that those bigger and better things would be waiting for her when she got home.

* * *

Elizabeth wasn't sure what woke her the next morning. Her throbbing headache was enough to wake her from her unpleasant slumber, but then again, the boiling sun overhead was capable of doing the trick as well. However, the strong smell of smoke, overpowering enough to wake the dead, was the most likely culprit. She sat up, the sand shifting beneath her, and brought her hand to her head. She turned around, her eyes widening in fright and surprise, at the raging fire behind her.

"Jack!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet. The pirate was trekking towards the flames, a case of rum from the cellar he had introduced her to the day before in his arms. She stumbled towards him, ignoring her pounding temples as he tossed the crate into the fire, eliciting a rather loud explosion. "What on earth do you think you're doing!" she cried. "There goes our shade… our food…"

"The rum," he added, wincing at the sight behind him. He stalked past her. "Had to be done, 'Lizabeth."

"What are you talking about?!" she shouted, whirling around and heading after him.

"Do you have any idea how many sailors your father has looking for you right now?" Jack asked her, pausing when he came to the spot where water met sand. The waves lapped up at his tan, bare feet. The look on her face said it all. "Likely not." He turned 

back towards the horizon. "Dear ole' pops probably has the entire Royal Navy looking for you right now. That smokestack can likely be seen from Bermuda," he exaggerated. She could have sworn she saw his eye twitch, clearly from mourning the sacrifice of his beloved drink. "Regardless… it'll capture _someone's _attention. We're as good as rescued, pet."

"Jack…" Elizabeth's voice was soft, now, heavy with gratitude. He looked over his shoulder at her, a sad smile flashing across his lips. He must have known that should the Royal Navy find them, he'd be taken aboard and immediately thrown in the brig. But he'd done it anyways, and for her, too.

"Sit here, Lizzie," he instructed, beginning to walk away. "I can guarantee the appearance of white sails on that horizon, so keep a weather eye."

"Where are you going?" she called, her brow furrowing with worry.

"These are my last moments of freedom, Miss Swann!" he called back, a phony smile with a genuine purpose on his face. "Don't worry, I'll be ready for the shackles when they arrive."

With that, she watched as his figure became smaller and smaller, walking towards the other side of the island. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen, then twenty. Jack had disappeared from sight, but true enough, the white sails he promised were drawing closer and closer. It wouldn't be long now before a longboat appeared.

What a surprise Jack had turned out to be. When she first realized Barbossa's intentions to maroon not only her, but Jack as well, she expected so many things. However, none of those things had come into fruition. Last night, Jack had ample opportunity to take advantage of her, to do as he pleased knowing there'd be no consequences. But he didn't. He didn't treat her like he was a pirate. He treated her the way any gentleman would treat a lady, with dignity and respect. He'd even gone as far as to let her cry against him, when he could have left her alone and miserable. And now? Now he'd sacrificed his freedom so that she might have a chance to enjoy her own.

The longboat had been lowered into the water. The faces in it were undistinguishable as of yet. That meant she had time. She rose to her feet, shaking the sand out of her skirt before following Jack's footsteps around the island. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her, which was no easy task in the heavy, sinking sand. She nearly tripped several times and stepped on quite a few seashells along the way, but before long she saw him, leaning against a large rock that looked out to sea.

The sound of her feet shuffling against the sand captured his attention and he turned around to face her, a frown crossing his face.

"What is it? They here already?" Jack asked, straightening up.

"Almost," she panted, out of breath as she nearly stumbled towards him. "Jack…"

"Don't," he held up his hands and smiled briefly. "There's no need to thank me, 'Lizabeth. Anyone would 'ave done it."

"But that's just it!" she cried. "Not _anyone _did it. _You _did it." She walked closer to him, so close that she could tell he was put-off by her forwardness. "Thank you."

"Lizzie…" Jack said her name, eyeing her hesitantly.

"Last night I said I would kiss you," she reminded him, hoping her voice didn't betray how nervous she really felt. She could only pray that she looked bold, brave and confident.

"You didn't forget after all," he said, smirking.

"No." Elizabeth shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. The Dauntless could not be seen from where they were, meaning they could not see them. She turned back to Jack, his eyes wide. She licked her dry lips before reminding herself that it was now or never. She placed both hands on either side of his face and brought her lips to his in a brief, yet firm, kiss. When she pulled back, she opened her eyes slowly to see that his were still closed. "Thank you, Jack."

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for Chapter 1! I hope you guys enjoyed it and just know that there's a lot more to come!

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 2!


	2. A Caged Sparrow

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 2—A Caged Sparrow**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this story.

**A/N: **Hello all! Thank you so, so much for the reviews, you guys are awesome!

I completely meant to dedicate this story in the last chapter, but I forgot, so I'll do it now! I dedicate this story to driver picks the music, for her wonderful reviews and for letting me bounce ideas off of her. Thanks, darlin'!

And one more thing. Instead of using the dialogue from the movie (as we've heard so many times), I used the dialogue the way it was originally written in the script, with a few changes here or there. That way, the general point of the story is still conveyed but there's a fresher take on things for anyone who hasn't read the original script. This only applies to the _**dialogue **_in the first part of the chapter. The rest is all from me noggin'!

Now, without much else to say, on with Chapter 2!

* * *

Much to Jack's chagrin, it was the one-and-only Commodore Norrington that lead the shore party. At the first sight of the man's white powdered wig, he was tempted to run and hide, something he thought himself to be quite good at. He also surmised that death by starvation and dehydration in paradise might be just _slightly _more appetizing than returning to a cold, dark cell before hanging in front of a crowd dressed in their Sunday best. At least here, his death wouldn't be a spectacle, some sick form of entertainment for the dull lives lead by those in Port Royale.

However, the instant Norrington's foot hit the sand, Elizabeth turned to look at him and smiled, and for some reason that was completely foreign to him, coherent thought seemed to flutter away. There was a twinkle in her tea colored eyes, something that said "trust me." Trust did not come easily to Jack, for many varying reasons, but something here was different. Elizabeth was not a hardened, crusty sailor whose every action had a differing motive. So he did his best to smile back and followed her down the beach.

The reunion was awkward, to say the least. Jack knew that the commodore had definitive feelings for the lass, as did she for him, however different they may be. But it seemed that neither of them really knew how to act in front of each other. He helped Elizabeth into the longboat, something Jack might have attempted to do himself, but it was quite apparent that Norrington was dissatisfied with the fact that he and the girl were breathing the same air, let alone allowing him to touch her. Jack smirked to himself the entire, silent trip back to the Dauntless. He wondered how Commodore Fancy-Pants would react if he knew that his precious Elizabeth had pressed a kiss to his lips just moments before he arrived.

As the longboat drew closer to the ship, which was hardly one to compare to Jack's prized Black Pearl, he could see a pompous gray wig pacing back and forth, clearly that of Elizabeth's father. The words "shoot him!" flashed through his mind and he gritted his teeth, reminding himself a swift punch to the older man's mouth would do anyone little good. It might make him feel better, though…

"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann poked his head over the ships railing as the longboat tied off. His own father was never that frantic. He would have likely smirked at his son, given him a pat on the back and made some smarmy comment about how there was no harm done. Certainly not the fussy type of father Jack saw now.

Elizabeth smiled up at her father, as she was the first to begin the climb up to the main deck. Norrington simply grunted and pointed, indicating Jack to follow. Jack wondered if the man thought that's how pirates communicated, through grunts and hand gestures. He said nothing though, remembering the feel of metal shackles clasped around his ankles, and followed Elizabeth up the ladder. He tried not to stare at her backside as she went. He might have had a great deal of respect for the lass, but he was, after all, a human... and a pirate, at that.

"Elizabeth, thank heavens you're alright! I was so worried about you." the governor continued. He stuck out his hand and helped his daughter aboard. When he saw Jack climb aboard behind her, however, his demeanor changed and he pulled his daughter close to him, as if afraid Jack would snatch her right out from under his grasp. He could hardly blame the man, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes. It wasn't like he was going to cut her up and eat her, for Christ's sake! "Clap him in irons!" he ordered. "And _behind _his back, this time!"

"Father…" Elizabeth was clearly annoyed and Jack grinned, proud of his little rose. "You can't do that."

"You're speaking up for him again?" Norrington asked as he stepped aboard. He quickly motioned his head towards two soldiers and Jack's eyebrows cocked in exasperation as the two he recognized from the docks appeared at his side. Despite Elizabeth's plea, a pair of irons was slapped around his wrists.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered over to Jack and suppressed another smirk, for the twinkle of mischief that he was beginning to secretly adore appeared again. He could tell she was thinking quickly, the makings of a fine pirate-lass. "He can locate Isla de Muerta," she said, "but I doubt he'll be willing to help us from the brig."

"Not bloody likely," Jack scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. Both Norrington and Governor Swann shot daggers at him, but he could care less. In fact, he rather enjoyed getting a rise over this people who though themselves his oppressors.

"Elizabeth, darling," Swann continued, looking at his daughter curiously, as if she'd bumped her head and was confused. "We are bound for Port Royale, not Isla de Muerta."

"No!" she shook her head, her eyes going wide. "The pirates have taken Will—"

"With all due respect, Miss Swann," Norrington interjected. "Your father, as well as myself, has been frantic with worry for you. Our mission was to rescue you and return home. That is what we shall do." His face fell slightly, seeming genuinely concerned. "Mr. Turner's fate is regrettable. But so was his decision to engage in piracy." He shot Jack a glance as he spoke his last sentence and Jack was tempted to give him a swift kick in the arse.

"Commodore, please!" she begged. Her wide eyes, beginning to glisten with tears, shot over to Jack. His brow furrowed at the distraught look on her face and he nodded, ever so slightly, as if silently assuring her there was no need to fret.

"Think about it, mate," he spoke up, earning Norrington's attention. The man looked aggravated simply by his presence, but he went on anyways. "The Black Pearl… its crew and its captain…" He thought of Barbossa. "…'specially it's captain… the last pirate threat in the Caribbean. How can you pass that up?" He flashed him a grin, a gold glimmer reflecting in the sunlight.

Norrington narrowed his eyes into slits. "By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself."

"_Captain _Sparrow," Jack grumbled under his breath.

"James, please!" Elizabeth took on a more human approach as she broke free from her father's embrace. Jack winced when she took his hand in hers. Her pretty little fingers looked so wrong wrapped around the commodore's palms. Her voice lowered to just above a whisper. "I beg you. Please do this. For me?" She paused and looked away, her voice nearly breaking. "Consider it a wedding gift."

Jack groaned audibly, earning irritated glances from nearly everyone who surrounded him, excluding Elizabeth, whose eyes remained at her feet. He cleared his throat and looked at the ground himself.

Norrington looked back at her. "Elizabeth?" His voice was soft and Jack could scarcely believe it was the same voice at all. _Not very Commodore-like of you_, he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. "Am I to understand that you will accept my marriage proposal on the condition that I rescue Mr. Turner?"

"Not as a condition… a request." When Elizabeth spoke again, she had forced a smile onto her face, yet it didn't meet her eyes. Jack wanted to break free from his confines and shake the bloody commodore by the shoulders, asking him if he was bothering to look into her eyes, if he saw her sadness.

Norrington said nothing, however, and instead looked over his shoulder to Murtogg and Mullroy. "Free Mr. Sparrow and prepare to come about," he said. "He'll give you our heading." Mullroy looked perplexed, but did as he was told. The two began to lead Jack away, pausing briefly before the newly engaged couple, as if oddly sensing his desperate need to speak.

"Congratulations to ye both," was all that he could muster, his eyes trained on Elizabeth before he was lead up the stairs towards the quarter deck. He could hear Governor Swann's gleeful congratulations as they approached the wheel.

* * *

Jack's freedom was short-lived, though he was hardly surprised. The floor of the Dauntless' brig was not nearly as "saturated" as the one in the Pearl had been, but damp and cold nonetheless. He had unraveled a trinket from his hair and was tossing it joylessly from hand to hand when he heard muffled voices from above. Within moments, the heavy creaking of the brig's door sounded and light from the world above spilled into the dark, cramped space. He grinned when he saw his rose, now dressed in men's clothing (for her last garment was undoubtedly deemed un-proper by her father, her fiancée, or quite possibly both). She looked at her feet and fiddled with her hands before speaking.

"I asked them to release you and give you a proper cabin," Elizabeth said quietly, her eyes briefly flashing to his.

"I s'pose then I wouldn't be wrong in assuming their objections," he chuckled, tossing the trinket across the small brig, watching as it landed in darkness. His back was against the front part of the cell and he shifted uncomfortably, the metal bars cold and hard, even through the thin padding of his shirt.

"They don't trust you," she sighed. He looked up at her as she leaned her back against the bars, sliding down to the floor so she was closer to him. "Not like _I_ do." He was silent at this, surprised by her declaration of faith to him. She turned to look at him, her eyes full of questioning. "Why did you do it, Jack?"

He immediately knew what she meant. "Well…" he sighed. "The way I see it, we could've both died on that miserable little island… _or_… we attract attention from a passing ship, however risky it may be, with the hope of survival."

"But you only prolonged your death," she said, her voice still small and sad. "James has agreed to rescue Will, but once we return to Port Royale—"

"Lizzie," he interrupted, "there's no one to say I won't make me way out of 'ere before then. Don't worry, I'll think of something."

"You always do," she sighed. Several moments of silence passed between them, though they were comfortable ones.

"Answer a dyin' man this, then, 'Lizabeth," Jack said, letting his head lean against the bars so he could capture her eyes with his. "The kiss." He paused. "Why did _ye_ do it?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, looking away from him for a moment before looking back. "You've saved my life twice now, Jack. It seemed a reasonable way to thank you, I suppose."

"Ah." He nodded, acting as though he were satisfied with her answer, though he'd been secretly hoping there was more to it than that. "Well, I s'pose if I'm to die in a few weeks time, havin' a kiss from Governor Swann's only daughter is not a bad memory to take with me to the next life."

"You're not going to die," Elizabeth said, her voice suddenly firm and resolute. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow as she rose to her feet. "Wait here, I'll return shortly." He said nothing as she retreated, a brief flash of sunlight filling the brig.

"As if I could wait anywhere else," he muttered.

* * *

"Come in."

Elizabeth pressed her form against the cabin's wooden door, cautiously poking her head inside to see James sitting at his desk. His had had been removed and he was rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. She wondered, as she crossed the room towards him, if said headache was caused by Jack or herself.

"Elizabeth!" When he looked up and noticed it was his future bride who had entered his quarters, he quickly rose to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over as he did so. He edged out from around his desk and took her hand in his, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles before releasing it again. The same glimmer in her eyes that Jack Sparrow had noticed, he noticed as well, though to him it meant something different. "Has something happened? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is quite wrong," she said gravely, trying her hardest to persuade him. If he knew how deeply troubled she was by Jack's situation, it could work to her advantage. He was another man with feelings she could not reciprocate, but she figured since she was destined to marry the man, she might as well use them for her favor. It might make her just as cunning and deceitful as any pirate sailing the seven seas, but if it meant saving Jack's life, it was worth it. The man had risked his own life to save hers, _twice _now, and she would be damned if she were to watch him hang for it.

"Come, then." James guided her towards a small seating area, placing her in a plush chair while he paced back and forth quite dramatically. "Tell me your thoughts, my dear." She tried not to wince. He was so good, yet so earnest, and she hated that she was using him the way she was.

"It's about Ja—Captain Sparrow," she corrected herself. She had planned her whole speech out in her head on her way to his cabin, but her desperation got the better of her and now she'd forgotten every last word. "Oh, James… there has to be something you can do!"

"What do you mean, Elizabeth?" He was genuinely concerned for her, which made asking him to do her this extraordinary favor all the more heartbreaking.

"He's rescued me twice now, and yes, I know he's a pirate, but I owe him my very life. If I can get him to agree never to return to Port Royale again… isn't there _some _way you could spare him? For me?" She knew this was a lot to ask, considering he'd already agreed to change course to Isla de Muerta to save Will, but she was determined.

James sighed. He cared deeply for this girl and were it solely up to him, he would do anything she asked, gladly. But… "I'm afraid it's out of my hands," he said, his voice firm, yet quiet.

"But—"

"The warrant for Mr. Sparrow's capture and execution has been ordered by the King himself, Elizabeth. You know that. There's nothing I can do, it's out of my hands."

"I see," Elizabeth nodded as her eyes fell to the floor, her voice just above a whisper. She forced herself to look at him again as she rose to her feet. "Thank you, James." She ignored his apologies as she headed for the door, closing it behind her. Time was short, with not a minute to waste. She had to think of something, or Jack would hang.

* * *

The familiar cry of the brig door and the sound of quick footsteps stirred Jack from his ill-fated attempt at sleep. He was now sitting on the rickety bench in his cell and he popped his eye open when he heard Elizabeth whisper to him.

"Jack!"

"Back so soon, luv?" He closed his eyes again. "No need to whisper, we're the only ones 'ere."

"Jack," her voice was louder now, albeit slightly irritated.

"Aye?"

"I've thought of something," she told him as she began to pace. Jack opened his eyes to watch her as she spoke, clearly proud of her own cleverness, which in turn made him proud. He grinned. "I'm to go to Isla de Muerta with you and the commodore. Barbossa was quite… suggestive… when I was on the Pearl and I think I can use that to my advantage to work arrange for your escape."

"You'll do no such thing!" he huffed, rising to his feet and stalking across the cell towards the bars where she stood. She jutted her bottom lip out at him and crossed her arms.

"I will so and you're not stopping me." Her stubborness was equally intriguing as it was annoying.

"Elizabeth!"

"Jack."

"You listen to me," in one, quick motion, he shoved his arms through the bars and took hold of her shoulders, gripping them firmly, yet not hard enough to hurt her. "Hector Barbossa is not like other pirates. He'd nastier, dirtier and many other things that you've never read about in your little books or sang about in your little song. He _will _hurt you, at the very least, and you're a daft strumpet if you think I'm going to let you go anywhere near him ever again."

A silence passed between them as she stared at him with wide eyes. She was trying to be brave, to not show the slightest trace of fear, but he saw right through it. He hadn't intended _any _of what he said to come out the way it did, but it had, and there was no taking it back. Maybe it made him look weak, maybe it revealed his soft-spot for the girl, but if it saved her from the clutches of that man, then it was worth it. Barbossa would take his rose, despite how her thorns would sting him, and pluck off her petals one by one before smashing her under his boot. Jack would rather scare Elizabeth half to death than have her test that fear on her own.

"You're… you're wrong," she said defiantly, wiggling free from his grasp. "You saved my life, Jack, and whether you like it or not, I'm going to save yours." She turned and began to walk away.

"Lizzie…" he called, watching her go, completely helpless to stop her. "'Lizabeth!" His face was bathed with sunlight before it quickly retreated, the door slamming behind her. He growled in frustration, gripping the bars.

So she'd come up with a plan to rescue him, then, had she? He breathed in deep through his nostrils and returned to his seat, crossing his arms and allowing the wheels in his head to begin turning. He smirked. He'd just have to come up with a way to stop her from carrying out said-plan. He might be locked up, but he'd certainly think of something.

After all, he _was _Captain Jack Sparrow.

* * *

**A/N: **So that's it for Chapter 2! I hope you guys liked it. Thanks for reading, now go review!

See you all at Chapter 3!


	3. Jack Sparrow's Doing

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 3—Jack Sparrow's Doing**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Sorry for the lack of an update yesterday, but I had a bio test to study for and got caught up.

Thanks for the continued reviews, you guys are awesome! Reviews really do prompt me to update more frequently, so keep 'em coming!

This chapter will move through the cave scene from CotBP rather quickly. We've all seen the movie and know what happens, so it will jump around a bit, highlighting the most important scenes and of course, changing them so they have a more Sparrabeth-y shine on them!

* * *

The hours dragged on, one by one, as Jack sat alone in the brig. This wasn't the first time in his life that he'd been imprisoned on a ship (or anywhere else, for that matter) and he knew it wouldn't be the last. However, he almost always found some form of entertainment. Sometimes there was another prisoner to talk to, or a guard to pester. Usually, he'd pluck some trinket from his hair and make good use of it or come up with an elaborate means of escape, or fantasize about how great life would be once he got the Pearl back.

But not this time, not on the Dauntless. Jack was the only one in captivity on the ship, which he found ironic, considering his notions of freedom. He surmised that that was the most likely reason as to why he was locked up… his definition of "freedom" did not meet the king's standards. The guards were just outside, able to keep him from escaping yet out of earshot for any sarcastic quips or jokes he might come up with. He had, for a brief matter of time, found some use out of a bead he plucked from one of his many dreadlocks, but it quickly became boring and was now lost in one of the cell's dark corners. That reindeer shin might come in handy for picking the lock, but he had nowhere to escape to.

When he closed his eyes and leaned against the cell wall, he tried to think about the Black Pearl. He tried to remember what it felt like to have the cool wood of her wheel under his hand, or the sound of her tattered sails rustling in the breeze. He tried to remember what it was like to sit in the crow's nest, to feel like you were on top of the world… what it was like to feel invincible. He used to think that being the captain of the Black Pearl made him invincible, that somehow, the mighty ship brought him some kind of immortality. But now? Now he wasn't as sure.

It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to envision himself back at the Pearl's helm, one image kept popping into his mind. That image was none other than Elizabeth Swann. It seemed that every picture he had of her kept flashing through his head. The look in her eyes, looking up at him from the docks in Port Royale… the fierceness in her voice when she called him a "wretch" on the Interceptor… the look on her face when she took her first sip of rum, and the amusement in her smile when he told her the truth about how he escaped the island the first time… Then, of course, there was the warmth of her body as they danced around the fire, and the conviction with which she promised to kiss him. The way she melted against him as she cried, allowing him, a known pirate and rogue, rock her to sleep and believing in him when he told her it would be alright.

Then, when she actually _did _kiss him… it was so brief, yet so entirely Elizabeth. He knew it hadn't meant anything, that it was just her way of thanking him for the sacrifice he had made, but something about that kiss was different than any kiss he'd ever given _or _received. He also knew it would never be spoken of again, but he couldn't help but wonder if any kiss would match up to that one, perfect Lizzie-kiss.

The more he thought about the Lizzie-kiss, the more he thought about _her _in general. How could _she_, his little pirate in disguise, be engaged to Commodore Norrington, of all people? How un-fairytale-like life was… There would be no sailing off into the sunset this time around. They'd go to the cave, rescue Whelpiam (who, as Jack thought, had gotten _himself _into this mess), and go back to Port Royale. Will would return, broken-hearted, to his blacksmith's shop. Elizabeth would marry the commodore. Jack would likely hang. There were to be no happily ever afters… it seemed that no one was getting what they _really _wanted. Except maybe Norrington, and Governor Swann, of course. Once again, the men with the white wigs prevailed.

As another hour crept by, Jack wondered what had happened to her. After his little warning about Barbossa, she'd disappeared, and he hadn't heard from her since. He'd had time to develop his plan for keeping her away from the crusty old pirate and knew it was a feeble way of doing things, tattling on her, but it would get the job done. He could hope that she had abandoned her plans and then there would be no need for tattling to her big, bad fiancé, but he knew it wasn't likely, and she therefore left him no choice.

The brig door creaked open and Jack squinted his eyes to adjust to the in-pouring light, but furrowed his brow when there was none. The sun must have set. He rose to his feet, hoping to see the golden-haired piratess, but frowned and suppressed the urge to roll onto the floor and pretend to be asleep when two guards, followed by Norrington, appeared. One of the guards unlocked the cell door and held it open. The commodore just stared at him, an irritated look on his face.

"I doubt this is your way of tellin' me I'm free to go," Jack smirked, tucking his hands behind his back.

Norrington sighed, annoyed. "With me, Sparrow," he said.

"James," Jack swayed forward a few steps, leaning against the door frame. He took utter delight in the look of loathing on the other man's face when he called him by his first name. "Are ye aware of what your dearly beloved has been up to in the last few hours?"

Norrington frowned and crossed his arms. He didn't want to know what the pirate had to say, but knew quite well that he would likely tell him anyways. "Enlighten me."

Jack smirked. "She came t'visit me."

"Did she." His tone of voice suggested an utter lack of interest, though Jack could tell by the look on his face that he was bothered by it.

"She did," he said, nodding. "An' she seems to think she's accompanying us over to Isla de Muerta."

"She does?" Norrington leaned forward slightly, his cover blown. Noticing this, he cleared his throat and straightened up again. "Why does she think that?"

"Dunno," Jack shrugged his shoulders and stretched, feigning disinterest himself, though he was talking complete and utter satisfaction in Norrington's growing discomfort. "She said somethin' about throwin' herself at Captain Barbossa. Somethin' about usin' her womanly wiles to persuade 'im to help grant me my freedom." He looked from his dirty fingernails back to the commodore, arching an eyebrow. "Now call me crazy, James, but does that not seem like an ill-fated plan? Not only for her sake, but yours as well? Losin' a fiancé to the clutches of a pirate an' then losin' your custody of _the _Captain Jack Sparrow to the very same pirate?"

Norrington's eyes flashed with worry and he looked at the ground, pondering before looking back at Jack.

* * *

"This is Jack Sparrow's doing!" Elizabeth pounded on the cabin door, her voice starting to go hoarse from all the screaming. She spun around, exasperated, and leaned against the wood.

So Jack thought he was clever, did he? The man was infuriating more than anything else! Oh, if she could just get her hands around his neck…

She had arrived on deck moments earlier, her rehearsed speech about wanting to be by her beloved fiancé's side as he went to challenge those "barbaric scoundrels" when she found that the longboats had already departed the Dauntless. The longboat carrying James, Jack and several others was just being lowered into the water and she ran to the rail, looking down at them just as Jack happened to look up. He grinned at her and gave her a little wave as the boat hit the water's surface.

Before she could think of an insult to yell to the man, two pairs of hands grabbed either of her arms and she found herself, despite all protests, being dragged back to her cabin. Strict orders, indeed! For her own safety! From a different perspective, it was a good thing they had locked her up, for were she to be turned loose now, she would give a hearty bunch to the teeth to the first man she saw.

She _had _to get out of the cabin. As appealing as the idea of wringing Jack's neck was, he needed her more than he thought he did. Without her, there was no one to think of bartering for his freedom. She could not return to Port Royale just to watch him dangle from the gallows. She could not.

* * *

_So far, so good…_

Jack was nearly out of breath as he dodged around piles of treasure, avoiding every swipe Barbossa made with his sword. He had the piece of Aztec gold safely tucked away on his person, completely unbeknownst to his counterpart. Will was, surprisingly, handling his own against three of Barbossa's men, which gave him one less thing to worry about. And Elizabeth, as pretty as she was to look at, was locked up safe in a cabin aboard the Dauntless.

Jack had originally thought that he might be able to use methods of persuasion to defeat Barbossa, but that plan flew out the window and he quickly realized that this fight would not before until one of them, or both of them, was dead. He had his next move planned out perfectly as he ran up the natural, stone incline. It would do Barbossa no real damage, but it might be able to buy him some much needed time, a way to figure out how to end this battle once and for all.

Within seconds, Barbossa had caught up to him and they were back to bashing their swords together. With one, simple false step, Jack stumbled, quickly whirling his head around to keep an eye on his opponent. Barbossa smirked, pleased with himself.

"Ye can't beat me, Jack!" he taunted, throwing his hands in the air, reminding him of his immortality. His mind light lightning, knowing it was time to make his move, Jack was back on his feet and plunged his sword into Barbossa's abdomen. The older man didn't grimace in pain, but instead looked away, sighing with what appeared to be boredom. If things had gone according to plan, Jack would have been halfway across the cave by the time Barbossa had even removed the weapon from his gut.

But, as it often went, things didn't go according to plan. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a flash of gold. He briefly cocked his head to the side to see Elizabeth, fighting on her own with an ease that surprised him. She knocked her opponent to the ground and her head turned towards him, their eyes locking. Even from where he was, he could see that familiar glimmer of defiance in her eyes, and she smiled at him, clearly satisfied with herself. His lips had just curled up in the slightest of grins when he felt something go through him and he heard Elizabeth scream.

"Jack! No!" Elizabeth dropped her weapon of choice to the ground with a loud clatter, watching with stunned horror as Jack, wide-eyed, looked at the sword protruding from his midsection. Tears instantly sprung into her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands. The sounds of battle still raged on, as Will continued his combat with his own adversary, but she heard nothing. Everything seemed to slow down as Jack stumbled back into the moonlight and she watched as his tan flesh gave way to that of decaying skin, hanging off of his bones, his clothes shredded.

"Sometimes I wonder what side he's on," she heard Will, panting and breathless, move up behind her. She said nothing, but instead released the breath that had caught in her throat. She grabbed his arm and ran in the other direction.

There was still a fight to be held.

* * *

Elizabeth had never been more tired in her entire life, but it was the most satisfying exhaustion she had ever experienced. After an awkward encounter with Will, she found herself leaning against a large marble statue, watching Jack from a safe distance. He was moving about the piles of treasure, picking up certain pieces before either pocketing them or tossing them back. His collection of gold and jewels was growing and she watched, an amused smile flashing across her lips, as he placed a crown on his head.

She sighed. How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to tell him that the Pearl was gone, that his newfound crew had already abandoned him? Earlier that day, neither of them had really though that things would escalate the way they had, into a battle like the one they'd just fought. But they did. Barbossa was gone, his crew likely captured by that of the Dauntless. Jack had just been given his freedom, his ability to return to the Pearl and sail away without a care in the world. Or so he thought. How was she supposed to squash this short-lived hope of his?

She straightened up, nervously tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears. It didn't matter, she _had _to tell him. She couldn't watch the look on his face, the face of a man she now considered a friend, when they got outside and he realized he was destined for the hangman's noose after all.

"Take what ye like, darlin'," Jack said loudly, looking up and noticing her as she came towards him. "Ye'll likely never see treasure like this in your lifetime, I can guarantee it."

"Jack…" The sad, seriousness to her tone made him stop what he was doing. He dropped the jewel encrusted goblet he held in his hand and stood upright, locking eyes with her.

"That was a very stupid thing, I'll have you know," he said, pointing a finger at her. "Got me all distracted, you did." He paused, smirking at her. "I knew you had it in you."

"Jack," she said again, this time more urgently. He frowned when she began to wring her hands together.

"What? What is it?"

"It's the Black Pearl," Elizabeth said quietly. Her eyes became glossy and she looked away from him, sniffling.

Suddenly, Jack knew. The look of remorse on Elizabeth's face told him everything. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, trying to gather the right thoughts while hiding his utter disappointment. "She's gone, isn't she?" he asked. She nodded, looking as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment. He took another deep breath and turned away, digging through another pile of treasure to hide his face from hers. "Well, ye win some, ye lose some."

"Oh, Jack!" In an instant, he felt her wrapped around him, her face pressed against his back.

"Liz," he said quietly, turning around again to face her. Streams of tears were trickling down her cheeks and he brushed them away with the pads of his thumbs. "I've still got time. Don't fret, luv. Yer face is much prettier when it hasn't any worry-wrinkles on it."

"I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered, though she knew "sorry" would never be a strong enough word for the despair she felt and knew he must be feeling as well. "I promise to think of something. I won't let you hang."

"Don't go doin' anything to get yerself in trouble," he said, his voice still soft and quiet. This was a different side to Jack, one she hadn't seen before. He smirked, his grin glinting gold, reminding her of the pirate she knew. "You know I'll second-best you anyways." He released himself from her grasp and walked away, muttering something to Will on his way towards the cave's exit.

* * *

When Elizabeth was a child, and she traveled with her father from London to the Caribbean, the gentle rocking of the ship's waves had always been enough to lull her to sleep. But not anymore, not on this particular night. She tossed and turned in her bunk for nearly three hours, her stomach full of knots and tears threatening to fall. Had she only gotten to the cave moments earlier… things could have been so different.

Talking to her father and James proved fruitless. They both seemed willing to listen, but not to her surprise, told her there was nothing they could do. Jack would hang and nothing could stop that.

Well, nothing in _their _eyes. She still had to save him. She had to do something, to rescue him the way he'd done for her twice now. She quietly padded out of bed, creeping around the edges of the ship, hidden from the other sailors in the shadows. When she reached her destination, she knocked lightly on the door, hoping the occupant had heard her. She could not risk knocking louder for fear of being discovered.

"Elizabeth?" Will was clearly confused to see her standing there. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Will," she smiled, relieved again to see her childhood friend safe and sound.

"Please, come in," he stood aside, letting her enter.

"I've been thinking…" she said, wasting no time. "It's about Jack."

* * *

**A/N: **Ooh! Perhaps the mastermind behind Jack's escape was not Will after all!

Well, that's it for Chapter 3! I hope you guys liked it. Thanks for reading, now go review! I love hearing what you think.

See you all at Chapter 4!


	4. The Letter

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 4—The Letter**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello! Thanks for the reviews, they're wonderful and always make me smile! ;-D

I meant to post this chapter yesterday, but things were kind of crazy and I never got around to it, so here it is today! Sorry!

In this chapter, as the title suggests, we get to read our first letter. As I stated in Chapter 1, most of the chapters from here on out will feature at least one letter, either from Jack to Elizabeth or Elizabeth to Jack. Some chapters (not this one, though) will be quite short, as they will _just _be a letter or two and some will have traditional story content in between. What I'm getting at is that the story will mostly be told through the writings of the letters.

Thanks again for the reviews! Here's Ch. 4!

* * *

It was barely eleven o'clock in the morning, and already the sun was hotter than it ever was. Beads of sweat trickled down Jack's neck, sliding underneath his shirt as he ran, not more than a step behind Will, towards the edge of the fort wall. He would have been surprised and even slightly amused that the straight-laced blacksmith ended up being the one to get him out of his precarious situation, his impending death, if he didn't feel so hot and sticky. His heart was pounding a mile a minute in his chest and he was out of breath when he felt his back collide with Will's, who immediately drew his sword as a large gaggle of Royal Navy soldiers swarmed in on them. They were surrounded.

So much for a dashing escape. Well… if he couldn't disappear before everyone's eyes, at least he'd go down swinging. At least he had someone who gave him the means to put up a fight, even if it was Will.

"Bet ye didn't plan on this, lad…" Jack hissed under his breath. "Now what?"

"Don't blame me," Will hissed back, sighing heavily, also out of breath. "This was _Elizabeth's _idea, not mine."

"_What?_" Jack craned his neck ever so slightly to see the side of Will's face. Elizabeth's idea… he should have known. On the voyage back to Port Royale, Elizabeth took it upon herself to take care of 'the prisoner,' as he had become called by most everyone on the Dauntless. She brought him his every meal and always sat with him while he ate, listening intently to his wild stories and appearing to love every minute of it. She always ended every visit vowing to find a way to save his neck from the noose, and he'd always just wink at her, thankful for her effort to make him feel better.

The commodore appeared, followed by Governor Swann and a few more soldiers.

"I thought we might have to endure some manner of ill-conceived escape attempt," he said, practically seething. Jack wondered if Norrington was more upset that he had _almost _escaped (again) or if he was more that he'd been embarrassed in front of his men (again). He shifted his steely eyes to Will. "But not from _you_."

The governor started to speak, but Jack's gaze shifted to the right when he saw a flash of golden hair. He immediately caught Elizabeth's eyes and smiled, nodding, as if to say "you did good." She tried to return the smile but he frowned when he saw her struggle with it, her eyes going wide with panic. They darted between her father, James, Will and himself.

"Father!" she cried, stepping forward so she was closer to her fiancé. She lightly placed a hand on his arm, looking up at him with doe-eyes. "James?" Jack watched as the commodore's face softened slightly. Perhaps she intended to use his affection for her again. If she was, it seemed to be, so far, working. "Do you not understand?"

"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann almost lunged forward when she walked closer to Will, standing halfway between him and Jack, directly in front of the line of fire. "Lower your weapons!" he ordered. The soldiers looked at him, then at each other, all of them hesitant. "For goodness' sake, put them down!" They did as they were told.

Elizabeth's voice was desperate as she spoke again. "If it weren't for Jack, I would _not _be here right now." She looked to her father and then to James. "_You _would have lost your daughter and _you _would not have a fiancé. And if it weren't for what Jack and Will did in the cave, it would not matter, anyways! If these two men hadn't broken the curse, Barbossa's men would have gone on forever and we'd _all_ be dead right now! How can you stand there and condemn a man who not only saved my life, **twice **I might add, but also saved yours?" Jack could only see the back of her head, but could tell by the waver in her voice that she was on the verge of tears. "James… I beg of you. Do not do this. Don't let a good man die."

Norrington was silent and he looked over his shoulder to Governor Swann, whose own face had softened. He looked away. Neither of them knew what to do and Jack quickly realized that the opportune moment was upon him. It was now or never.

"Well! I'm actually feeling rather good about this," he said as he swayed forward, ever so slightly brushing his hand across the backs of Elizabeth's fingers as he went over to Governor Swann. He leaned into the older man's face, completely invading the man's personal space and taking quite a bit of pleasure in it as he continued on. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh? Spiritually… ecumenically… grammatically." He turned to Norrington. It was the commodore's turn to be annoyed. "This one is wild," he motioned to Elizabeth with his thumb over his shoulder. "Keep an eye on 'er so men like me won't get any ideas, eh?" He smirked inwardly as he turned around, facing Will. "William…" He sighed and grabbed his shoulder, as if about to say something very poignant, but nothing came to mind. "Nice hat." They boy grinned, pleased at the compliment, his eyes flashing up to the large hat on his head.

Jack shuffled past him to see Elizabeth. She was staring at her feet, her arms folded behind her back. "Luv?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him with watery eyes and he leaned in, practically able to hear Norrington's thoughts of _get away from her! _He let his voice drop even quieter, so only she could hear him. "I'll be seein' you again. Count on that." A small smile curled up onto the corner's of her mouth as a tear rolled down her cheek. He quickly brushed it away with his thumb and smiled before moving past her, marching up the steps that led to the battlement. His smile broadened. The Black Pearl was in the harbor, waiting for him. He should have known Gibbs was too good a man to leave him like that.

"Friends!" He called, turning around to face the crowd. They all leaned forward a little bit, as if anxiously awaiting his next move. He _loved _times like this. He backed up a few steps as he continued. "This is the day that you will always remember as the day that—" Before he could finish, the backs of his legs hit the wall and he stumbled, falling down to the water below.

* * *

"_I'll be seein' you again. Count on that." _

Jack's words echoed through Elizabeth's head, no matter how hard she tried not to think of him. Did he really mean it? The weeks stretched on and there was still no sign of him or the Black Pearl. The morning after Jack's failed hanging, James had seemed hell-bent on preparing the Dauntless for pursuit, but all Elizabeth had to do was flash him a coy smile or two, remind him that there was a wedding to be planned, and his ambitions for recapturing the great Captain Jack Sparrow were forgotten. She knew James loved her and she felt horrible for using those feelings to her advantage, but if it saved a man's life, then she would continue to do so.

At first, she had thought about breaking off the engagement, because she knew she could never reciprocate the feelings that he had for her. But she quickly realized that if she did that, she would lose her leverage to protect Jack and might even hasten his capture, which she could not live with. Besides… it wasn't as if James was a _bad _man. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was sweet, especially to her, and he had a good heart when it came down to things. He had all the makings of a fine husband. He would always take care of her and would always protect her… the problem was, Elizabeth wasn't sure if she wanted all that.

Being on the sea gave her a taste of freedom that she'd never gotten before. Once upon a time, she might have been fine with the idea of settling down and raising a family. But now, she wasn't sure. Maybe someday she'd want a husband and children, but who was to say it had to be in the rigorous society she'd been raised in? Could she not have it all? Her freedom _and _marital bliss? Then again… no pirate would want those things. And staying engaged to Commodore James Norrington was the right thing to do. It made _him_ happy. It made her father happy. She could live with this life. It couldn't be all that bad…

If there was one person that was certainly not happy, it was Will. She knew he loved her and adding to her list of troubles was the notion that she'd broken his heart. But she couldn't help it! She didn't feel that way about him, she just didn't. And she knew that he wouldn't want her to be with him if she didn't feel the same way about him as he did about her. He would never show if he was angry with her. She knew he just wanted her to be happy and perhaps he thought that James made her happy. He didn't make her _unhappy_, that was certain, and there was no use in breaking the engagement if there was another man she loved.

As for Jack… he had to have felt indifferent towards her impending marriage to the good commodore, for he had neither said nor done anything to imply otherwise. And it wasn't as if she was actually going to see him again. He might have told her so, but pirates, especially _this _pirate, were notorious for breaking their word. Besides… her job was done. She'd successfully concocted a plan for his escape. He was out of harm's way. As he once put it, he saved her life, she saved his. They were square, with nothing left to be said.

Elizabeth closed her bedroom door behind her, leaning against it and letting out a sigh of pain. She was wearing new shoes and they pinched her feet. She quickly kicked them off as she made her way across the room. She had just finished dinner with her father and James, who now joined the his future bride and father-in-law for almost every meal. Once they were married, he'd live with them in the mansion and Elizabeth knew that someday, her father would retire and James would be the most likely candidate to take over the governorship. It seemed her life was planned for her, carved in stone. All she had to do was sit back and let it unravel.

Both men cared about her, but they had a way overriding her. She sat quietly and drank her after dinner tea while the men made plans for the wedding. It would be a year from now, next spring. That way, James' family in London, as well as her own extended family, could be given plenty of notice and time to make it to Port Royale for the ceremony. It was to be a big wedding, for she was practically the island's royalty, and the big day was sure to be the event of the year. Fine… whatever worked. She supposed it didn't matter much anyways.

Elizabeth bent her arms behind her back and started to undo the buttons of her dress, too impatient to wait for her father to send up her chamber maid for assistance. She took a few steps across the room before she felt a cool breeze and noticed that the balcony door had been left open. Her brow furrowed… she didn't remember opening it. She quickly shrugged it off, assuming it had been left open by Estrella, and went to close it.

The French doors had just clicked closed when she heard something creak behind her… it sounded like a floorboard. She had yet to light the lanterns in the room and the only light there was, was from the full moon from outside. She held her breath as she ever so quietly edged towards the fireplace, her hand reaching for the iron poker. She was about to wrap her fingers around it when a male hand clamped down over her mouth. Her first instinct was to get her mouth open just enough to bite down on her attacker's feelings when she looked down at the man's hand and saw… a dirt smudge… two over-sized rings…

"Don't scream," a voice whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and inhaled, smelling rum, sweat and the faintest scent of patchouli and tobacco. "Do ye promise not to scream?" She weakly nodded her head and he backed away from her, releasing his hand from her face. She slowly turned around, her suspicions confirmed, as she saw none other than Jack Sparrow, smirking back at her. "'Ello, Lizzie."

Elizabeth smiled gently before a hot flash of anger surged through her. She hauled back and slapped him hard against the face, making the trinkets in his hair jingle as his head shot to the side.

"Well…" he said, rubbing his cheek as he turned back to look at her. "I'd ask if you were glad to see me, but I suppose not."

"How dare you sneak in here and man-handle me like that!" she whispered loudly. "You scared me half to death! And had I _not _realized it was you, I would have very likely screamed, then you would have been captured and my efforts to save you would have been in vain! Do you not care at all what happens to you?!" She was about to slap him again when he caught her wrist in mid-air.

"Alright, alright," he whispered back, giving her wrist a light squeeze before letting her hand drop. "Point taken, luv, I'm sorry."

She glared at him for a few seconds, her arms crossed, before speaking again. "I forgive you."

"Good. Would hate for me little visit to be dissapointin' to you."

"Why are you here, Jack?" she asked, unfolding her arms. "Not that it isn't good to see you again, but I thought you'd be halfway across the world by now."

Jack chuckled and she watched him as he moved across the room, plucking a few trinkets off the fireplace mantle and studying them before putting them down again. "Lizzie, the Pearl's fast, but she's not _that _fast. I just went to Tortuga for a few nights… to give the crew a good time and to let the good commodore cool his heels a bit before showin' up again."

"I see." Of course. With Jack, even the spontaneous things were meticulously and expertly planned. He paused where he stood and turned to look at her. There was no doubt that she was absolutely stunning. If it weren't for that streak of good in him, he'd ravish her right then and there.

The truth was, he had to see her again. There was no questioning that a visit with his Lizzie would be difficult to coordinate once she was Mrs. James Norrington, so he felt he might as well do so now, when he still had the time to persuade her back to his side. He knew she wasn't destined to forever be that… Mrs. James Norrington. And he knew she likely wasn't destined for a life as Mrs. Captain Jack Sparrow, either, but the previous title was not for her.

"An'… he trailed off a little bit. "It seems I never got the chance to properly thank you for what ye did." He clasped his hands together and bowed slightly. "So… thank you."

"You're welcome, Jack. I was only doing what was right."

"O'course," he sighed, trying to hide any traces of dejection. He had hoped that maybe, _just maybe_, there was more to it than that… but oh well. "I also came to give you this." She watched as he pulled a neatly folded parchment out of his pocket, handing it to her. "Time is short, Lizzie, and I must be on my way soon. But there's lots of things I haven't the time to say written in there, so read it when I've gone." She continued to watch him with sad, panicked eyes as he strode towards the balcony, ready to leave.

"Jack!" she called quietly, rushing over to him as he flipped the doorknob, allowing the night breeze to once again pour into the room. "How will I know that you're safe?"

"Ah, Lizzie. I didn't know you cared." He immediately rued his words, knowing full-well that she'd proven otherwise. "Don't worry, I've already thought of that. Phil, at the Faithful Bride in Tortuga. His contact is in the letter I gave you. He's an old mate of mine an' always knows how to reach me. You can send whatever you like there an' he'll make sure it finds me."

"Alright," Elizabeth nodded, holding the letter to her chest. "Jack?"

"Aye?" he turned to her again as he began to climb over the balcony ledge.

"Be safe?" Her words struck something in him. He wasn't sure what, but they'd be there forever. No one had ever cared so much about him before.

"O'course, luv." He paused where he was, staring at her for a few minutes. "Ye know, Lizzie… the Pearl's a big ship. There's always room for one more. If you're interested, that is."

"Jack…" her voice was full of hope, yet full of sadness at the same time. "I can't. I can't leave my father behind." He nodded, trying to be understanding, but mostly just pleased that she hadn't listed her fiancé as a reason to stay.

"Well, me offer still stands, just so you know."

"I know. Goodbye, Jack."

"S'not goodbye," he called softly, making his way down to the ground. "I'll see you later, Lizzie."

Elizabeth watched him sneak off the mansion grounds, wishing she could see the Black Pearl from the harbor, but knowing full-well that Jack likely had it secluded and out of sight on the other side of the island. Oh, how she wished she could have gone with him! But her life was here, in Port Royale. There was her father to think of, and of course, James. She was doing the right thing. She was.

When Jack was completely out of sight, she closed the doors again and quickly walked to her desk, sitting down and lighting the candle there. She then broke the seal, which bore the image of a sparrow in flight, much like Jack's tattoo, and began to read.

_Dear Lizzie,_

_As you likely know by now, I hadn't the time to stay and visit for very long. The risk of being caught again is not one I'm willing to take, but I had to make sure I got this to you._

_I never got the chance to properly thank you for all you did. You kept saying how I saved your life twice, but what you don't realize is that you saved mine three times. You stood up for me on the pier that day, just over a month ago, when you didn't have to. I might have held a gun to your pretty little neck that day, but your protests gave me the time to plan an escape, however short-lived it was._

_I also must not fail to mention the island. Had it not been for you, I likely would have never thought to burn the rum (however unfortunate the event was), and might be stranded there still. You should also know that what I said to you that night was the absolute, God-given truth… the company was infinitely better than the previous visit. _

_Then, of course, I mustn't forget the way you tirelessly fought for my freedom on the journey back to Port Royale. You fought like it was your own freedom and I'll never forget that. No one has ever fought so hard for my sake. You're the only one who ever seemed to give a genuine damn about Captain Jack Sparrow and I'll remember that until the day I die. Looks like I have you beat, eh, darling? Remind me that I owe it to you to save your life again someday. Then we'll be square._

_So, thank you, Lizzie. In a way, it seems, it was you who got me the Pearl back. My first night after being reinstated her captain, my new first mate, Joshamee Gibbs (who I believe you know) told me it was you who convinced the crew to come back to Port Royale for me. He said something about how you reminded him that the code was really just guidelines. Well done, Lizzie, you think like me more than you realize._

_I have enclosed on a separate piece of parchment a way for you to contact me. Should you ever need me for anything, I'll come. Like I already said, I owe you one, darling, and I'm looking forward to the day when I get the chance to pay you back._

_Until then…_

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

When she finished reading, Elizabeth raised the letter to her nose and breathed in deeply, pleased to find that it had his scent on it. The scent of freedom… She was surprised by the eloquence of his writing and was glad that he'd given her a way to reach him. Who would have thought that she, Governor Swann's only child (and a daughter, at that) would become friends with the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow? She knew their correspondence would have to be a secret one, and that she'd have to find a place where he could send _her _letters, so as not to be discovered by James or her father.

But she'd think of all that later. She dug through the desk's top drawer and found a clean, neat piece of parchment. Now, she had a letter to write.

* * *

**A/N: **So that's it for Chapter 4! Thanks for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 5!


	5. A Secret Correspondence

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER FIVE—A Secret Correspondence**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Thanks for your reviews, they are truly inspiring!

Just a quick note on the letters. I know back in Jack and Elizabeth's time, especially with them living far apart, mail would not have reached them quickly at all. I won't be getting too specific with how long it takes for them to exchange letters, but it will be a lot faster than it realistically would have been, for the story's purposes. As I see it, the how and time-frame of the letters is not as important as JxE writing and receiving them.

Anyways, with that being said, on with Chapter 5!

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_I must tell you how surprised I was by your visit. That is in no way to say that I was not pleased to see you, quite the contrary. It was lovely to see you again, especially so soon, and especially because it gave me peace of mind regarding your well-being. With your most recent escape, your notoriety only grew, and the authorities are sure to be keeping their eyes out for you more than they ever have been. I practically had to throw myself at James to distract him from his more formal obligations. I reminded him of our wedding and thus, our wedding night, which seemed to put his plans to hunt you down on hold… at least for now, anyways._

_Speaking of James, he must not know about our correspondence. It would be hardly acceptable for the commodore's future bride to be exchanging letters with Captain Jack Sparrow. In addition to being the commodore's fiancé, I am the governor's only daughter. Therefore, father must not know, either. I think these letters would be best kept our little secret, so I ask you not to send your responses to the mansion. I am going to visit Will tomorrow after tea. I am sure he will understand if I ask him to take the letters at his shop until I can pick them up. If this is unacceptable, however, I will let you know._

_I am sorry that you were not able to stay longer when you came to visit me. It would have been nice to hear about your adventures since acquiring the Black Pearl back into your possession, but I understand why your time here must be brief. I suppose it is for the __best, anyways. When you came to my balcony, I had just returned to my bed chamber from one of many dinners with James and my father. He joins us now for every meal, which has its positives as well as its negatives. James is a good man, and I can almost imagine the look on your face as you read that, but he really is. He cares about me and he always will, as well as he will take care of me, and having him spend this much time at the mansion means getting to know him all the better. In addition to this, my father likes him. I know you have other opinions, but try to be happy for me? I'm not in love with him now, but I do care about his feelings… when my parents married, their union was arranged, yet they grew to love each other very much. Perhaps the same will happen for James and me._

_I am quite sure that reading about James has just about put you to sleep, so allow me to change the subject. I have to thank you again for your offer to join the Black Pearl. In many ways, a life at sea is idyllic. When I was a girl, my parents always took me to the English coast and I would stand and stare at the waves for hours. After my mother died, I always traveled with my father back and forth from London to the Caribbean and I certainly miss the gentle pitching of the ship rocking me to sleep at night. If things were only slightly different, I gladly would have come away with you to join the crew. But things are not different… I am all that my father has left and I cannot leave him. Nor can I leave James. I made a promise to marry him and I intend on keeping that promise. My place is here, in Port Royale. _

_Well, as I bring my letter to a close, I feel I need to address how happy I am that you wish to correspond with me and keep my friendship. Receiving letters directly from you is the best way to know of your whereabouts. Were we to sever all ties after your departure, I know I would lie awake many nights wondering what had become of you. I would hear the legends and the stories as they developed, but hearing them from you is much better, I think. I will likely still worry about your well-being, about you being hurt or captured or something far worse. But at least now my apprehension will be less. _

_I am looking forward to receiving your next letter. I will remember to send this to your friend in Tortuga, at the Faithful Bride. Know that I would take your letters as opposed to nothing, but I hope to see your face again someday. I am glad to think of us as friends._

_Fondly,_

_Elizabeth Swann_

Elizabeth's hand was cramping when she finished writing. She flexed her fingers and rubbed her palm after she set her quill back in the inkwell she had gotten it from, waiting patiently for the black ink on the parchment to dry before folding it neatly. The wax candle inside the lantern atop her desk was melting quickly and she rummaged around in the faint light for her seal press, which bore her initials. She smiled as _EJS _was imprinted in the drying wax… now Jack would immediately know the letter was from her.

When she was finished, she carried the lantern with her across the room, to the small side table next to her bed. She opened the top drawer there and safely hid the letter in her private hideaway compartment, that she only knew about. It was once the place where she hid Will's piece of Aztec gold, where she hid her diary and her mother's diary. Her outgoing letters to Jack, until she had the opportunity to send them, and the letters she got from Jack, would be safe there. She only hoped as she undressed and climbed into bed that Will would allow her to send and receive them through him.

She lay in bed for several hours that night, buzzing with excitement over Jack's visit and the letter she'd already gotten from him. Jack was a living legend, someone she'd read about and heard the stories of since she was a young teenager. She was fascinated by him then and even now, after she'd met him and had his friendship, was still fascinated.

Elizabeth thought about his letter… how surprising it was. She read it several more times that night, imagining his smooth voice over every word. His penmanship was uniquely his, not the proper lettering she'd been taught by her tutors, but still beautiful, each letter shapely and ornate. His vocabulary was far more extensive than she would have expected and his spelling was perfect. If he came off to others as undereducated, she knew better. Jack was a very smart man, despite how he sometimes might behave, but then she imagined that hiding his wit was likely a great use of strategy. His writing suggested to her that at some time he'd received some type of an education. She realized what a constant surprise Jack was and wondered if she'd ever know the real him… but then again, his spontaneity was one of the things that drew her to him.

She drifted off to sleep, Jack's letter still clutched in her hand, with images of the infamous pirate swirling through her mind.

* * *

A single droplet of sweat ran down Will's forehead as he pounded out his frustrations against one of the shop's many anvils. A part of him had hoped that the whole ordeal with the Black Pearl would have ended favorably for him, though looking back he knew he should have known better. In time, he would move on, despite the dissatisfaction he was currently feeling. But he didn't want Elizabeth to be with him if she didn't want to. He wanted her to do what made her happy because he loved her… if she chose to be with someone else, than she was free to do so. He would not stop her.

Although she was engaged to James Norrington, he spent many hours of the day wondering if that was where her heart truly lied. The way she constantly rushed to the defense of a one Captain Jack Sparrow sparked his suspicion and set it aflame. He had watched the way she interacted with him at Isla de Muerta, the way she wrapped her arms around him and the fear in her eyes, the promise in her voice when she told him she would think of a way to save him. He himself hadn't been on the island with them and was only left to his own torturous thoughts as to what might have happened there.

Then, that very night on the Dauntless, she'd come to him. He had hoped, upon opening his cabin door to see her standing there, that she was coming to confess what he'd always longed to hear, but it wasn't so. Still, he cared about her and wanted what she wanted, so he sat and waited patiently as she desperately pleaded for his assistance in concocting a plan to free the pirate. When the day of Jack's execution came upon them, Will had said he was a good man and he meant it. A very small part of him respected Jack and even looked up to him, but he supposed that what affected him the most was Elizabeth's admiration for him. If Elizabeth cared so much about him, as she clearly did, then he was only too happy to help him escape.

It was the sleepiest part of the day, sometime between afternoon tea and the early evening hours. Mr. Brown had already retired for the day, which was hardly surprising. Will imagined the older man was headed to one of Port Royale's few taverns or even the port's only brothel. Drinking and womanizing were Mr. Brown's favorite leisurely activities, and so most of the blacksmith shop's chores were left to Will. He didn't really mind, though… it was easier to work without his master around anyways.

He momentarily paused, going to wipe his sweaty brow with the back of his hand when he heard the small bell above the shop's main entrance ring. He looked up, expecting to see an officer or a nobleman with a new commission, but his brown eyes widened when he saw Elizabeth. The sight of her was overwhelmingly pleasing and painful at the same time. He was glad to see her, but with her beauty came the reminder that she would never be his. And beautiful she was, wearing a fine green dress of silk and satin and lace, an equally stunning hat on her head. She had a small fan in her hand and what appeared to be a folded piece of parchment tucked behind it.

"Will," she smiled warmly at him and he forced an equally warm smile onto his own face. He didn't want her to know how he felt at the moment. He didn't want her to bear that kind of guilt.

"Elizabeth…" He rushed to where she stood and helped her down the steep front steps that led down into the shop, taking her hat as she untied it and placing it to the side. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, as well. I've missed you." He really smiled at that. It was good to know that she cared about him, even if it wasn't in the way he had hoped for.

"What brings you by?" he asked, quickly turning and grabbing the least dirty cloth he could find. He wiped his face and then his hands, embarrassed at his sweaty, slovenly appearance.

"Several things, actually," she answered, bowing her head slightly in thanks as he scooted a chair over for her to sit in. "I mostly wanted to see you. You're still the dearest friend I have, you know," she added quietly.

"I know," he nodded. He wanted to tell her that she was his dearest friend as well but couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"And I wanted to thank you, again, for everything you did for Jack and me." Something stung inside him when she said _Jack and me_.

"Of course," he nodded again. "I suppose we both owe Jack for his assistance. It was the least I could do." He wouldn't tell her that he did what he did only because she asked him to.

"I know I have no right to ask of your favor again…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes darted away from his for a moment before she hesitantly brought them up again.

"Anything," he blurted, mildly embarrassed again. "What I mean to say is… there's no favor too big. It's no trouble to help you, Elizabeth."

She smiled, her eyes sad. She knew she'd hurt him and she hated it, but it was better than living a lie with him. "I actually got a visit from Jack."

"You did?" Will pulled up another chair and sat opposite her. "When?"

"Just last night. He snuck onto the mansion grounds and climbed the wall to my balcony."

"Only Jack," he said with a slight chuckle.

"I know. He seems to care not that he could have been caught and captured, with my father and James sitting in the parlor downstairs."

"Well what did he want? Has he lost the Pearl again already?"

Elizabeth laughed. "No, no he hasn't." She paused. "He came to thank me, and you as well." She was upset with herself for lying to him, but knew Will was mostly to thank for Jack's escape and had Jack thought of it last night, he might have asked her to extend his thanks to him.

"He came all the way back here just to thank us?" Will looked away, his eyebrow cocked. "Odd."

"Very odd."

"What else did he have to say?" he asked.

"He's given me an address by which to reach him, in Tortuga. But I can't very well send my letters from the mansion. If my father found them, he'd be furious, and with James there as much as he is, he could easily discover Jack's whereabouts and then all our work to save him would be for naught," she explained.

"I see," Will nodded slightly and rubbed his chin. "I understand the importance of your correspondence being a secret, then." He wished he had the courage, the frankness that Jack possessed to ask her if she was falling for him. But he held his tongue.

"Could I…" Elizabeth looked away again, beginning to fidget with her fingers. "That is, if you don't mind…"

"Elizabeth." When she looked back up at him, he was smiling. "I'd be happy to send them for you. And you can tell Jack he can send his letters for you here." He paused, took in a deep breath and looked away before forcing himself to look back at her. "Besides… it would give you an excuse to come and visit me every now and again, would it not?" He had a small, sad smile on his face as he spoke.

"Oh, Will," she said quietly. "I could never need an _excuse_ to come and visit you. When I said you were my dearest friend, I meant it."

"I know." He rose to his feet, knowing she would have to leave soon. "Is that for me to send to him, there?" He nodded his head in the direction of the letter in her hand.

"Yes. I'll make sure to tell Jack that he can send his letters here." She wouldn't tell him that she already had. "Thank you, Will. You have no idea how much this means to me."

_You have no idea how much this means to me_. Her words stuck with him long after she left. Maybe Elizabeth didn't know it yet, but he could see it, plain as day, when she talked about Jack. There was something more to him than just friendship.

* * *

In an hour's time, the sun would be setting over Tortuga and the first of the town's many patrons would be crawling out of the woodwork to begin a long night of drinking, brawling and promiscuous relations. But for now, all was fairly quiet. There were even still a few patrons hung over from the night before, still passed out in alleyways and the corners of now-sleepy bars.

Jack had no intention of staying long. The Pearl was docked temporarily in Tortuga Harbor while he ran a quick errand into town. The Faithful Bride was hardly recognizable at this hour. Only two tables in the entire joint were occupied, and there was one other man, asleep with his head on the bar top, when he entered. The tavern's owner, the one-and-only Phillip Harris, was behind the bar, a long row of dirty mugs in front of him. He had a rag in his fist as he cleaned one, giving no mind to a spit shine finish. Phil was, in technicality, a cousin of Jack's, but more a friend than anything else.

"I'd say it's good to see ye, but then I'd be lyin'." Phil said dryly, adding a wink as Jack swayed up to the counter and had a seat.

"Ah, dear Phillip, your kindness astounds me."

"As always. A little early for you, eh Jackie?" Phil arched his eyebrow. He was one of the few people alive allowed to call him _Jackie_. "What'll it be, then?"

"Not here for that," Jack shook his head and waved his hand briefly. "I've a favor to ask."

"Well then, best get out with it." Phil narrowed his eyes at the still-dirty mug in his hand and gave the bottom a hearty spit of saliva. "Ye still owe me several schillings, Jack, but seein' as how yer family and whatnot… Whatdoye need, mate?"

"I'm expectin' a letter from a lass in Port Royale," Jack said. "I told her she could send it here and that you'd get it off to me, seein' as how you know how to keep your ear low to the ground better than anyone I know. S'that alright by you?"

"Alright by me," Phil said with a shrug. He eyed Jack again. "Might I inquire as to the identity of this fair lass? I assume she's fair, knowin' you, Jackie."

"Aye, she's somethin'."

Phil laughed heartily. "Oh, heaven help us all. I've seen that glimmer in your eyes before." He set the mug down and leaned on the counter with his palms. "Who is she?"

"Elizabeth Swann," Jack whispered, leaning in.

"Elizabeth Swann??" Phil's eyes grew wide. "Governor Swann's daughter, Elizabeth Swann? _That _Elizabeth Swann??"

"Yes and shh!" Jack cautioned, looking over his shoulder at the tavern's other patrons. He deemed them no threat and turned back around.

"Jack…" Phil clicked his tongue. "Have ye learned nothin'? Yer goin' to end up with a noose around yer neck."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Jack replied, smirking. "Then you understand the importance of keepin' this a secret?"

"Aye, I understand," Phil sighed. "But if you get me in any trouble, so help me, I'll have no choice but to rat you out, boy."

"I know, I know, do what ye must," Jack waved his hand at him as he stood up. "Yer a diamond, mate." Without another word, he was gone.

Phil rolled his eyes as he watched Jack go. He knew his friend well. For him to take the time and dedication to establish a correspondence, with the governor's bloody daughter, no less, something had to be different. There had to be something special about this one… this _Elizabeth Swann._

* * *

**A/N: **Okay guys'n'gals, that's it for Chapter 5!

Since you're all so wonderful, I'm enlisting you all to help me name another new character. Check out the poll in my profile to **vote!**

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 6!


	6. Dear Jack, Dear Lizzie I

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**DEAR JACK, DEAR LIZZIE I**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello everyone! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and has voted in the poll!

This is the first chapter that is _just _letter-based content. Therefore, it's not really a chapter… kind of a half-chapter, chapterette, whatever you want to call it. There won't be too many chapters like this, just a few dispersed here and there. Most others will have story content as well.

Thanks again for the reviews! You're all wonderful!

* * *

_Dear Lizzie,_

_Dear Lizzie indeed. Sweet lass, you should know by now that I make no judgments or assumptions over your impending union with the good commodore. It is true that I feel there is a man out there better suited for you, whoever the lucky fop might be… However, the decision is yours (and yours alone) to make. If you want to marry Norrington, be it for duty, honor or something greater, then do it. Don't you dare let anyone tell you what decisions to make. It's your life, darling, and therefore you are the only one justified to choose which road to travel. And contrary to what you might believe, I am happy for you. Norrington might be the water to my oil, but I have no uncertainties regarding his capacity to take care of you and to be a good husband._

_Speaking of that white-haired fiancé of yours, I, too, must agree that this exchange between you and me is best kept secret. I have no worries as to what would happen to me, or the Pearl for that matter. I've outrun the Royal Navy many times, Lizzie, and you mustn't fear the image of a noose around my neck. My most recent stint in Port Royale was not the first time I've stood on the hangman's dock and it likely won't be the last. However, my concern is what might happen to you. While aiding my escape was a very noble thing to do, it comes with its own dangers. Abetting a criminal like myself is just as punishable as being one. Be careful, Lizzie. I would hate for there to be a reason for me to save your pretty little neck a third time. That's not to say I wouldn't do it (quite gladly, actually), but just… be careful._

_With that being said, allow me to move onto some less daunting notions._

_Having the Pearl back is just as excellent as I thought it would be, though I will imagine it will take me quite a while to get the stench of the previous occupant out of my quarters. I keep finding little monkey hairs all over the bloody ship. Though as much as I loathe anything related to Hector Barbossa, the man managed to keep my ship in-tact and dare I say, even did a good job of it. He might have been the blackest freebooter I've seen yet (save for myself, of course), but he's the only other man in the world who could love the Pearl as much as I do. _

_We're arrived in Portugal yesterday evening for a short stop to pick up supplies and discard of the previous crew's affects. I will not have any more reminders of that bleak period when it was someone else's hands on the Pearl's wheel. We've already made port in a few other places, picking up a new crew member or two at every stop. We leave tomorrow at dawn and will be heading up towards Northern Europe and then over to Ireland, to a little port town called St. Jon's, which is much like Tortuga. We're sure to find the best addition's to the Pearl's crew there, and I will also stop in to visit a friend who will forward this letter to Phil, and then on to you. _

_I've been waiting to do a speck of honest pirating until we get the ship fully stocked with new weapons and powder, and until we have a substantial enough crew to accommodate a ship of any size. I'm sure word will reach you soon of some unimaginable deed I've done, but try to keep your faith in me and wait for my news until you believe a word of it. _

_Until then, Lizzie, keep a weather eye._

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_I was so excited to visit Will today and find your letter waiting for me. He is my dearest and oldest friend and I visit him daily as it is, but to find news from you when I arrived made it all the sweeter. _

_I am glad to hear you are so happy at having your ship. I knew you would be, but to hear you speak of it makes it all the more satisfying. In your letter, you spoke of her being in Barbossa's possession, which must have been tremendously difficult for you. However, the Black Pearl has never had a finer captain than the one whose eyes are reading this l__etter. I know you must think you are lucky to have her, but I think it is quite the opposite. It is the Pearl who is lucky to have you._

_And thank you, Jack, for your kind words regarding James. I only wish your assurance was enough to keep my head from spinning. Today, we took a walk together and he started mentioning the future, talking about our children! Can you believe it? We haven't even picked out the china for our wedding yet and he's already imagining what our future little ones will look like and what their names will be. I suppose that's the normal thing to think about when you're getting married, though I would not know for sure, having never been engaged before this. _

_I guess what I'm saying is that I wish I shared my fiancé's enthusiasm. Maybe someday I will be excited at the notion of having children. I've always wanted to be a mother, though the thought of it right now is more than overwhelming. I like thinking that I will grow to love James, but right now I don't, not in that way, at least, and the idea of bringing children into a home where their parents do not fully love each other frightens me. The thought of marrying someone I don't love frightens me, but I keep trying to remind myself that arranged marriages are capable of being happy ones. _

_Then there are the times when I worry about his true feelings for me. I know he loves me, but I sometimes wonder the extent or the depth of that love. I'm curious as to whether he truly is in love with me, or simply loves the idea of me, of who he thinks I am. I hardly feel the proper, well-bred socialite I am perceived to be. Tell me, Jack… am I being unreasonable? Does this sound like a simple case of pre-wedding doubt? I'm afraid I don't know myself and I hate the idea of troubling you over a matter like this. I would go to Will, but at the very mention of James' name, I can practically hear his heart break. Perhaps I should not see him anymore… I fear also that spending time with him is delaying his chance to move on from me. I could always send a trusted maid to receive your letters. Oh, I just don't know anymore, about __anything_ _it seems._

_I apologize, Jack, for the briefness and selfishness of my letter, but afternoon tea is only a few moments away and I must hurry. I don't want my father to be suspicious of anything. I look forward to your next letter._

_Fondly Yours,_

_Elizabeth Swann_


	7. Travel Plans

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER SIX—Travel Plans**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! I am so, so sorry for the lack of updates this past week (I've been meaning to write!), but I've been really busy. I had a lab exam to study for, which takes a tremendous amount of time and effort. Blah! But it's over now and the next one won't be for awhile longer, so no worries!

With that being said, I would like to thank you all again for the lovely reviews! They're quite heart-warming and really do inspire me to keep going. I have very high aspirations for this story and would like to make it as long as I possibly can, and with your support and feedback that seems all the more possible.

Now, without further ado, on with Chapter 6!

* * *

A light, crisp breeze blew through Jack's hair, causing the assortment of trinkets and beads to make their own unique brand of music. It was halfway between the early part of the morning and the later part of the morning, his favorite time of day for that was when the ship felt the most alive. The crew bustled about from their positions on ship, taking cargo below deck and preparing the Pearl as she sailed out of port.

She was leaving the port at St. Nazaire, a quick stop for gunpowder, rum and a few other essentials after an unexpected bit of profit came her way in the form of a Spanish treasure galleon. The unsuspecting ship was bound for the Americas and a heavy, wet layer of fog only aided the Pearl in her takeover. A single cannon-shot from the infamous ship (and thus, the ship's infamous captain) ensured a quick surrender from the Spanish crew, who put up little to no fight as the Pearl's men boarded and took what they wanted.

The honest speck of pirating that Jack had been fantasizing about proved to be even better than he imagined. On nights following such a raid, he often went to bed quite satisfied, but on that particular night he lay awake for hours, his thoughts occupied by a different type of gold entirely. He spent many nights thinking of the girl with golden hair and a laugh that had the potential to turn this mighty, fearsome pirate into a blob of mush. He might have told her that he had no qualms over her engagement to the commodore, but lying was something he'd gotten quite good at over the years.

The days of summer were fluttering away one by one, transitioning slowly into autumn, which was Jack's favorite time of the year. He watched from the quarterdeck, listening as his crew chattered away as they worked. He had hoped that with the Pearl's most recent anchoring that he would have found a letter waiting for him in the nearby French town, but there was none. Odds were that his Lizzie had already sent one, but that it had yet to catch up with him. He quietly sighed to himself and leaned forward, resting on his elbows. He'd have to be patient, a trait he struggled with.

"Capt'n?" Jack straightened up and glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Gibbs' voice behind him.

"Eh?" He tried to hide any traces of annoyance from his voice. He was quite enjoying his solitude and was anxious to get back to it.

Gibbs stepped forward an inch or two and turned his back to the main deck, subtly pulling a folded piece of parchment out of his vest pocket.

"Picked this up for ye at Marguerite's last night," he said quietly, handing the letter to his captain with a quick glance over his shoulder. "Though ye'd want me to give it to you in private."

Jack eagerly took the parchment from his quartermaster and flipped it over, secretly delighted to see a seal bearing the initials _EJS_.

"You thought right," Jack replied, clearing his throat and thus squashing any traces of glee that might have seeped out in his reaction to receiving the letter. "I'll trust you to keep a good eye on things, then?" he continued, swaggering off towards the stairs, headed for his cabin.

"Aye, capt'n." Gibbs let out a sigh and a soft chuckle as he watched Jack go, with no doubt that his captain was completely and utterly vexed.

* * *

Jack kicked the cabin door shut behind him, his eyes trained on the parchment in his hands, his fingers working fastidiously to carefully break the seal.

Even after already receiving two previous letters from his beautiful swan, it still surprised him to get another one. Elizabeth had made her intentions to keep a correspondence with him quite clear, but nonetheless, he always wondered when he sent one to Port Royale if he'd get a response. In his years as a pirate, and even before the _P_ was branded onto his arm, he'd learned the hard way not to count on others. But once again, Lizzie had proven herself to be different. _His rose in a world full of daisies…_

His dark eyes instantly began to read as he continued across the room, nearly tripping three times, towards his desk. Once he had sat down, his gaze briefly shot up to the door, second-checking to make sure it was locked. Reading Lizzie's letters in private was quite important to him. Gibbs was the only crew member to know he was receiving them and that was how Jack intended on keeping things. He could only imagine how horribly things could turn up if the secrecy of their correspondence was discovered by the wrong person… The connections that made their exchange of letters possible could also prove to be quite damning. Jack had made many allies in his lifetime but had also made many enemies. The knowledge that there was someone (a _female _someone, at that) out there that mattered to him was crucial. Not only did it make _him_ vulnerable, but it made _her _vulnerable, which was far worse. Jack hated thinking about what would happen if a man like Barbossa got involved.

His brow furrowed as he continued to read. He could practically see the distress on her face and the worry in her eyes, and the notion of a distraught Lizzie was virtually unbearable. As soon as he finished reading her letter, he set it down on the desk's surface and pulled open one of the heavy, wooden drawers, frantically searching for a clean sheet of paper.

* * *

Will rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, gulping down a few deep breaths as he leaned back to inspect his work. Autumn might be quickly approaching, but it was still hotter than it had ever been in Port Royal, and the blacksmith's shop seemed to be a trap for the warm, uncomfortable air. He reached for his hammer and was about to set to work again when he heard the familiar clicking of a woman's shoes on the cobblestone outside.

He wiped his hands on his apron and headed for the door in time to see Elizabeth swing it open, looking as beautiful as she ever had. The pangs of remorse he felt for not being to her what she was to him had lessened, however slightly. He was just glad to have her in his life at all. Their daily visits were the highlight of his day.

"Good day," he greeted, taking her hand and helping her down the steep steps that led into the main part of the shop.

"Good day, Will," she replied, leaning in ever so gently and kissing him on the cheek. "Oh…" she pulled back, skeptically eyeing Mr. Brown, who, as he often was, passed out in a chair in the corner of the room. His empty rum bottle had already crashed to the floor. "…is he…?" She looked back to Will, who only shrugged.

"Don't worry about him," he assured her, sighing. "He won't be awake for hours."

"I see." She nodded and graciously sat in the stool Will provided for her. Her first impulse was to ask if there was anything from Jack, but she held her tongue. She didn't want Will to think that her expectance of his letters was the only reason she visited. Her gaze shot to Mr. Brown, who let out an unflattering snort in his sleep. When she looked back to Will, he was walking towards her, something folded in his hand.

"This arrived for you this morning," he said, handing it to her. She had reminded herself time and time again to retain her composure, but when he handed the parchment to her, she shot up from her seat, eagerly clasping it.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, heading no attention to the stool her skirts had knocked over in her excitement. "It's been quite some time since I heard from him last… I was beginning to worry I'd frightened him away."

Will laughed. "I don't think it would take much to frighten Jack away."

Elizabeth lowered the letter from her face. "How am I to interpret _that_?"

"Forgive me," his eyes darted away from hers as he spoke. "I meant nothing of it, just that Jack's loyalty is surprising."

"He's a good man," she quickly reminded him, tucking the letter under her arm. She didn't mean for her voice to sound as sharp as it did, but she found she couldn't help it. "Or have you forgotten already?"

"Forgive me," Will said again, his voice softening. "I had no intentions of speaking ill of your… friend." Upon seeing the sadness in his eyes and the dejection his voice brought, Elizabeth took a deep breath, instantly feeling bad.

"I'm sorry," she replied quietly. "It was not _my _intention to accuse you so." She looked at the ground, feeling awkward. "Perhaps I should leave you to your work."

Will looked up, ready to insist that she needn't go, only to see a flash of golden hair as the door swung shut behind her.

* * *

The beach was Elizabeth's favorite place to read Jack's letters. She always felt closest to him there, as if the sound of the waves crashing against the shore brought the sound of his voice reading the letter to her. She couldn't explain it, and often wondered if she'd ever be able to, but something about his letters brought her a sense of calm in the escalating panic that encompassed her life.

_Dearest Lizzie,_

_I must say, it was quite distressing to hear of your… distress. My only hope is to dissipate your unease in the best way I can. But before I give you any kind of advice, I must address one thing: your letter was in no way too brief and was certainly not selfish. Any length you chose to make your letters is enough for me, my dear, and venting your frustrations is in no way self-absorbed. It is you who so kindly expressed your delight in our friendship, which leads me to remind you that occasions like this one are precisely what I am here for… to listen to your aggravations and do what I can to help._

_With that being said… try not to worry too much about Norrington's talk of the future. All that it is, is a reflection of his feelings for you. His talk of children and whatnot simply mirrors his happiness at being with you. After all, what man in his right mind wouldn't think of having those things with you? Breathe easy, love. If this talk continues to bother you, the solution is as simple as asking him to stop. Tell him you're not ready to discuss such things and if he really loves you, as you say he does, then he'll leave it alone. _

_As far as your feelings for the man go, only time will tell. You seem quite certain that you could grow to love him, so you must be patient. But in answer to your question, no… you are not being unreasonable. It sounds to me like these worries simply are a case of pre-wedding jitters, but if they persist post-wedding, know that it is never too late to say goodbye. Divorce might not be an exceptional solution to one's marital woes in the circle you swim in, Liz, but it is, nonetheless, a solution. If you are truly unhappy down the road, don't let a single soul tell you what to do. As I've told you before, your decision to marry someone or not to marry someone is yours and yours alone. Don't worry about being proper and whatnot… being proper is NOT worth being miserable for the rest of your life._

_Now, where young William is concerned. Lizzie, my dear, you must stop blaming yourself for his broken heart. You can't hold yourself responsible for not loving him the way he __loves you. Ask yourself this, darling: would Will want you to be with him even if it's not what __you__ wanted? I think you know the answer. He would not. Time will heal the blacksmith's heart and perhaps even bring him another pretty face to dote upon. And I'm sure he cherishes your friendship. Severing ties with him completely will only serve to confuse the lad and lead him to believe that it is he who has done something wrong. If you continue to worry that your presence in his life only hinders his chances of re-finding happiness, then simply ask the boy. If he wishes your absence, then you can choose to abide by his wishes. _

_As I close my letter, I wish to remind you not to shy away from things that are bothering you. If you have a problem, Lizzie, I wish to hear of it, if only to help you solve it._

_Keep a weather eye on the horizon._

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

As Elizabeth finished reading the letter, her mind hazy with a series of happy reflections and memories regarding her favorite pirate captain, she heard a masculine voice calling her name. She glanced over to see James, his tricorn hat in hand, starting down the beach towards her. With a fearful gasp, she quickly folded Jack's letter several times before tucking it inside her cleavage, hiding it from sight. A few moments earlier and she very likely would have been caught… she rose to her feet, forcing a smile on her face while she inwardly thought to be more careful.

"Elizabeth," James sighed at the sight of her, bowing slightly before kissing her hand. "You look lovely."

"James," she curtseyed her response, wondering if she was to keep doing so even after they were married. "How did you find me?" She had meant to say _Thank you_ or _how do you do_, and briefly closed her eyes in embarrassment as James chuckled.

"Lieutenant Gillette, actually." He held out his arm to her, which she took as they headed back towards town. "He said he saw you leave Mr. Brown's before heading towards the beach. I thought I would walk you back to the mansion for tea."

"How very kind of you, James."

"An honor." She looked up at him to see him smiling at her. She smiled back, feeling guilty that her smile didn't hold the same genuine enthusiasm that his did. "I also… have a matter to discuss with you, Elizabeth."

"Oh?"

"I have received a letter from my parents. In London." He paused briefly before continuing as they rounded a corner, heading up the meandering dirt road that led to the governor's mansion. "They wish to meet you before the wedding."

"Do they?" Elizabeth hoped her voice didn't sound as apprehensive as she felt. She hadn't even thought about meeting her in-laws. Up to this point, it might as well have been that they didn't exist. A brand new wave of nervousness swept over her. "I wish to meet them, as well," she lied.

"Excellent," James replied. She sighed quietly. More eagerness that she could not replicate. "They're hosting an engagement ball. Their desire is for you and your father to travel to London, but if the request is too extreme, I—"

"No," she interjected. As much as she didn't want to travel to rainy, dreary England, she would do it. It was the least she could do for a man who was so good to her. "I would be more than willing to make the journey." She paused. "So I am to understand that my father will accompany us?"

"Yes, I've already spoken with him," he informed her. She rolled her eyes, glad that James was looking again and hadn't noticed. It seemed to her that he would be better off marrying her father… why was _she _always the last to know these things, these things that should involve only her and her fiancé?

They reached the gate, the guards recognizing the pair and letting them enter the mansion grounds with no fuss. She forced another happy smile on her face when she saw her father, standing to greet them at the front door.

"Elizabeth!" He held out his arms and embraced her the way any father would. "James…" he heartily shook his future son-in-law's hand. "Have you told her the good news, then?" Elizabeth bit her tongue. Her father _loved _England.

"I have," James nodded. "We can begin the preparations for the voyage as soon as you see fit." Elizabeth followed silently behind the two men as they entered the house, headed for the front parlor for tea. She lightly folded her arms lightly across her chest. If she thought hard enough, she could imagine the salty sea-spray on her face… _and the sound of black sails ruffling overhead…_

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's it for Chapter 6! I hope you guys liked it!

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 7!


	8. Dear Jack, Dear Lizzie II

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**DEAR JACK, DEAR LIZZIE II**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Thanks for the reviews from the last chapter, they were wonderful! (Hence, why I'm updating again so soon!) I really appreciate all the positive feedback, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy! :-D

The following is another little chapterette composed of just letters between Jack and Elizabeth. In the next chapter, Lizzie will accompany James to London to meet his parents, and when she arrives, she'll find that the visit to her home country isn't nearly as awful as she thought it would be…

Anyways, thanks again for the lovely reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_I would like to start by offering my sincerest appreciation for the sound advice you gave me in your previous letter. I've come to value your opinion more than you know, and having an objective friend to exchange thoughts with has been most gratifying. I only hope a day comes when I can bestow the same benevolence to you as you have to me._

_With that being said… I was nearly caught this afternoon while reading your letter. The day started off well enough, but my visit to Will's shop soured everything. _

_I woke up, as I have the last several mornings, worried about you. I know you told me not to fuss, but I can't help it. Word of the Black Pearl sacking that Spanish treasure galleon hit Port Royale recently, along with it the news that crew members from both sides had been injured in a bloody battle over the gold. I do not know what of the story is true and what is simply rumor, but it frightened me nonetheless. So you can understand my excitement at finding a letter waiting for me when I arrived at Will's later that day._

_I always try to suppress some of my enthusiasm at getting your letters, mostly out of the fear that I will hurt Will more than I already have, but I couldn't hold back this time. He made some innocent little comment (the likes of which I can no longer remember, it was __so trivial… it was about you, actually) and I read too far into it. This led to a difference of opinion. I jumped to conclusions and perhaps he did some jumping of his own regarding your loyalty to me. Of course, he meant nothing of it. He's just concerned for my welfare. Regardless of intentions or opinions, I ended up leaving without giving him the proper chance to defend himself and I feel awful for it. If things weren't awkward and strained between us before, they certainly are now._

_Anyways, when I left Will's shop, I didn't know where to go. I didn't want to return to the mansion, for my father is only keen on discussing my impending nuptials to James, and as I'm sure you can understand, I needed some distance from it all. I'm happy to oversee the plans for my own wedding, but I do not wish to eat, breathe and sleep it every minute of the day! I ended up at the beach, where I've gone to read some of your letters in private on prior occasions. Something about being near the ocean when I hear from you makes it feel all the more real. It makes me feel like you're close by and that I can relax a little… not worry so much about your safety. _

_I was just finishing your letter when James showed up. He nearly caught me, I had to shove the parchment into my dress or else leave it behind so he wouldn't see. I feel so lucky that he didn't discover our correspondence… I don't know what I would do if my carelessness was the cause for your capture. James then accompanied me back to the mansion (for tea) and on the way told me of his parents' wishes to meet me before the wedding. Apparently, they're planning an engagement party for our kin back in England. As if we haven't had enough engagement celebrations right here in Port Royale…_

_I couldn't very well tell James that I do not wish to meet his parents, despite the fact that I have absolutely no desire to return to England. He is an exceptionally good man, even if our priorities seem to differ in several aspects, so I imagine his mother and father cannot be so intimidating. However, until the very moment that he mentioned them, I hadn't given them any thought. English society is more suffocating that the cursed corset that nearly cost me my life… living in the Caribbean is so much easier, though I'm sure you know that. _

_James and my father have already begun the preparations for the voyage. I expect we'll be leaving within a few weeks._

_So, Jack, while you are off having some grand adventure in Madagascar or what have you, I will be in cold, dreary London, sipping tea with my father, my fiancé, and my future in-laws. Lovely! Dear captain, would you ever dream of trading places with me for a day? Perhaps you could marry James and I could sail away with the Black Pearl. (I can only imagine the look on your face right now… it makes me smile.)_

_I eagerly await your next letter, but until it comes, be safe, and avoid London at all costs!_

_Fondly Yours,_

_Elizabeth Swann_

* * *

_My Dear Lizzie,_

_Me? Marry the commodore? Not bloody likely. Have no doubt, fair Elizabeth, that there is not much in this world I wouldn't do to spare you the horrendous task of sipping tea with England's wealthiest socialites, but marrying your James is simply not one of them. But I will remind you, as I'm sure you already know, that the offer to join me on the Pearl still stands. There is always enough room on this vessel for a pirate-lass of your superiority. _

_Now, about young William. I'm sure that by the time you receive this, the pair of you have already gotten over your little spat, no matter how serious it was. I imagine the lad values your friendship far too much to let you stay cross with him, and if he hasn't already crawled on his hands and knees to beg your forgiveness, I'm sure you will see such a sight very soon._

_I know you will be greatly disappointed with the briefness of this letter, but we make port in less than an hour just so I can send it to you. The crew grumbles quite a bit at the frequent stops on land and I will be the only one to go ashore. The stop will be brief as the Pearl is not in need of any supplies, and I have no intentions of giving any man on this ship the opportunity to abandon their duties. I just wanted to make sure that something from me reached you in Port Royale before your departure, however epigrammatic it might be. I offer my sincerest apologies._

_As for being caught by James or anyone else, fear not, darling. Life's too short for it._

_Keep a weather eye on the horizon._

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for now! The next chapter will have more story content in it.

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 7!


	9. European Rendezvous

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 7—European Rendezvous**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I (begrudgingly) make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews, they're lovely!

This chapter, along with the next two, will have mostly story-content. The following chapter will be a letter (though just one this time) and will be quite pivotal. So look for big things to come for Jack and Elizabeth!

And just a small note… to anyone who is familiar with the San Francisco Bay Area, the home of Norrington's parents is based on Filoli. For those of you who aren't, you can find some beautiful pictures of the house and the gardens by searching Google Images. I also give a nod to Johnny Depp in _Sweeney Todd _in this chapter. See if you can find it! (It's pretty obvious, though…)

Without much else to say, on with Chapter 7!

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_Worry not, you silly pirate. The briefness of your last letter upsets me not at all. I am still pleased to receive anything from you, however long it may be._

_Your kindness continues to astound me, Jack. I must confess, there are many occasions when I wish I could accept your offer and join the Pearl's crew. Growing up in England, I was the only daughter in my parents' social circle that wanted a toy sword for Christmas instead of a frilly little doll or a new tea set. I never got one, needless to say, and perhaps my longing to be at sea is a reflection of dreams from my childhood. If it were entirely up to my mother, I think I would have been allowed to wear breeches and make-believe as I please. She was a very independent thinker and found my fantasies about Edward Teach and Bartholomew Roberts amusing. My father, on the other hand, as affectionate as he's always been, was embarrassed by them. So, as often as I dream about joining you in all your grand adventures, I cannot abandon the life I have in Port Royale. However, I imagine you'd be generous enough to live vicariously for me, wouldn't you, Jack?_

_Today was wonderful, the best day I've had in a long time. We leave tomorrow at dawn for England and with the voyage so close at hand, my father and James were __preoccupied with last minute arrangements, leaving me to do as I pleased. For the first time in ages, I felt a free woman, like the invisible shackles had been removed. I got to sleep in for the first time in… I can't even remember how long! It was so pleasurable to wake up on my own schedule, not someone else's. _

_In addition to the few extra hours of sleep I got, today was the first day I didn't have the wedding thrown in my face at every available opportunity. I didn't even see James until afternoon tea. Estrella, my bed maid, must be able to sense my discomfort for she didn't bring it up once. She's a very intuitive woman and sometimes I wonder if she knows what I'm thinking before I do. _

_I also got to spend a nice, long visit with Will. Mr. Brown was asleep until nearly noon, and when he awoke to find me in his shop, he paid me no mind. He only stayed for two or three hours (most of which was spent trying to remember where he'd left his shoes and hat) before retiring to his favorite brothel. Jack, I actually saw Will smile today. And it wasn't one of those smiles he forces on his face to make me think he's happy when he is not. It was a genuine smile. I think he's finally beginning to get over me, which makes me happier than I can express. I missed simply having him as my friend. My next task is to find him a girl who can love him in ways that I cannot. I want to see him happy and settled, for domesticity is something I know he craves._

_Anyways, when I returned to my bed-chamber after tea, I was quite pleased to see that Estrella and a few others had taken to packing my things for tomorrow's voyage. Someday, I would like to be able to choose my own dress for the day, or even my own pair of breeches, should the opportunity present itself. But at the same time, it was quite nice to have it already done. It would have been frustrating packing for a trip that I do not wish to take. _

_I'll be leaving this letter with Estrella. I trust her and she has promised to take it to Will's tomorrow morning, for I have run out of time to do it myself. And quit smirking, Jack. I am not as stealthy as you and haven't the means to sneak off the mansion's grounds in the middle of the night. You may write me as many letters as you wish when I am gone. Will has promised to keep them all for me until I return._

_I haven't much more time, for my father should be along any minute now to say goodnight, so I have only one more thing to say. Now, I'd like to think that I know you quite well, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. I can practically envision the wheels in your head and the glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You are not (under ANY circumstances!) to "accidentally" come across the Dauntless in the time it will take to reach the port of London. STAY AWAY! I know it would be just like you to unofficially "kidnap" me with __your own, twisted sense of humor, but I'm instructing you not to. It is not worth the risk. In your unique form of heroism, you'd be thinking that you were rescuing me from the next miserable few months, but I ask you, as a friend, not to. _

_Until next time, my captain._

_Fondly Yours,_

_Elizabeth Swann_

Jack laughed to himself as he finished reading Elizabeth's letter, tossing it casually onto the surface of his desk. She was right… she did know him well enough to know what he'd been plotting. He was, after all, a pirate, and kidnapping a wealthy governor's daughter was just the sort of thing that pirates did.

He sighed and plucked his bottle of rum from his desk, taking a quick sip before setting it down again. She _had _asked him nicely to stay away, so stay away he would. She told him not to approach the Dauntless on open waters. He smirked. He would just have to formulate a new plan.

Jack glanced towards the open window, the green cliffs of Ireland passing him by as the Pearl sailed along her merry way. Given the time it had taken for Elizabeth's letter to reach him (considering it had been mailed the day of her departure), and given the time it would take the Pearl to reach London… his timing would be perfect. Without giving his quickly thought up plan second thought, he popped up from his chair and headed for the door, grabbing his hat along the way.

He marched straight up the stairs and to the quarterdeck, where Anamaria was at the wheel, Gibbs not too far behind. Despite Jack's assurances (and Anamaria's threats), the older man was still wary of having a woman on board, let alone at the wheel.

"Change course," Jack muttered quickly, yet firmly.

"What?" Ana's head shot in his direction, her hair falling over her shoulders.

"What?" Gibbs echoed.

"Change course, we're headed for London," Jack ordered.

"What?? You _hate _London, have ye gone mad?" Ana spat.

"Perhaps." Jack smirked and tucked his arms behind his back, rocking slightly on his feet. Ana rolled her eyes and Gibbs cleared his throat, preparing to interject on his "mad" captain's behalf, but when Jack shot him a warning glance, he changed directions.

"CHANGE COURSE!" Gibbs shouted.

* * *

If James' modesty hadn't been blaringly apparent to Elizabeth before seeing the place where he grew up, it was even more so now. He had described it to her as a "quaint residence" on the outskirts of London, where country met city. _Quaint_ was not one of the words she would use to depict the Norrington Estate. A row of oak trees lined the front drive leading up to the gracious estate built in the Renaissance style, with Spanish tiles on the roof and a brick façade. The portico was exquisite—grand, yet with a sense of simple elegance.

The grounds were outstanding in their own right. Acres upon acres of gardens could be seen from each of the seven bedrooms, all of which faced east. It seemed there was a separate garden for every flower known to man, all of them manicured and trimmed down to the very last rose petal. There were lavender gardens, tulip gardens, daffodils, morning glory, sunflowers, daisies… There were fruit orchards by the dozen… apples, oranges, lemons… fruits Elizabeth didn't know could grow in England's unforgiving weather and fruits she didn't even know existed.

When Elizabeth had initially arrived at the estate, she was too exhausted to appreciate the beauty of the house and gardens, but after several days, she felt she could stay forever. The beauty of the grounds was like a sweet, quiet paradise. There were so many places she could escape to, so many places where she could be alone with her thoughts. On her third day visiting the estate, she fell asleep underneath the shade of a willow tree on the edge of the property and began dreaming.

_She was running, laughing and happy, with someone not far behind. The sunshine was warm on her face and she kept going, weaving around the topiaries and statues until she collapsed into a soft bed of high grass. The someone who was chasing her collapsed beside her, laughing himself before lazily crawling over her, resting on his elbows._ _She reached up to him, tracing the line of his jaw, delighting in the soft purr of approval he gave her._

"_Come away with me." It was a statement, not a request._

_She stared up at him with smiling eyes. Of course she would go away with him, but she needn't tell him that. He already knew. She giggled and he smiled before leaning down, his mouth getting closer and closer…_

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth?" A very different man's voice woke her. Elizabeth blinked a few times, her chest feeling heavy as she tried to catch her breath. She felt sweaty. "Elizabeth!" James called again.

"O—over here…" She sat up slowly, bringing her knees to her chest as she came to lean against the bark of the tree, still unable to believe what she'd been dreaming.

"Ah, there you are." She forced a smile on her face when she saw her fiancé round one of the tall hedges. "I've been searching for you."

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep…"

"The party is only a few hours away. My mother was content on sending one of the maids to find you, but I said I would be more than happy to." She nodded in response to his smile, wishing she could make herself as happy to see him as he clearly was to see her. Sensing her unease, James cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing. "Elizabeth? Is something wrong?"

"No. No, of course not," she lied, feigning a yawn. "I'm still just a little sleepy, is all."

"Is that all?"

She hesitated and instantly berated herself for it. "Just…" she had to think fast. She couldn't very well tell her fiancé that she'd been dreaming of another man. "Just a little homesick. But I'm fine, really."

"Say the word, Elizabeth," James said quickly, startling her slightly. "Whenever you wish to go, we can go."

"Oh, James…" She hadn't intended for her voice to be as soft as it was. "That's very sweet of you, but I'm alright." He nodded uncertainly before holding out his arm to her. She shook her head, offering him a polite smile. "You go ahead, I'll be along in a moment."

"Are you sure? I'd be more than happy to accompany—"

"I can find my way."

He nodded and she wished she hadn't seen the pathetic look in his eyes. "Very well." With that, and a slight bow of his head, he disappeared from where he'd come.

When she was sure he was gone, Elizabeth leaned forward from the tree, burying her face in her lap. What was happening to her? How could she have had a dream like that? About _him_? She let out a shaky breath and chewed her bottom lip. This was not good, not good at all.

An already complicated situation had just become twice as worse.

* * *

When the last flute of wine had been drunk and the last guest had left, a very tired Elizabeth with very sore feet shuffled down the hall towards her designated guest quarters. She had politely refused the escort offered by her future in-laws and the service of having the maids help her change into her night-dress and turn down her bed. Ever since the dream she had had earlier in the day, she'd been met with a strong desire to be left alone, which was in no way satisfied for the second ball since her arrival.

She entered the room to find that one of the household staff had already made the rounds to light the lanterns and fireplace. She hadn't made it three feet into the space, however, when she was hit with a blast of cool air. She looked to the side to see that the window had been left open and a smile crossed her face, instantly thinking of Jack. It felt so long ago since she'd last seen him, the night he snuck into her room back in Port Royale. A small part of her regretted telling him to stay away. She missed him and his quirky sense of humor, the way he seemed to make her forget about everything else and just live her life the way _she _wanted to.

Against the warmth provided by the fireplace, the cool breeze felt decidedly refreshing, and for the time-being, she would leave it open. She turned towards the screen, to where the trunk containing her nightgown was when she heard something crash. It had sounded like one of the porcelain flower pots from the balcony had been dropped or… knocked over. A minute had yet to pass when she heard a "shh!" It was a _shh_ that she recognized.

"Jack Sparrow!" she called in a hiss-like whisper. A head adorned with dreadlocks, a red bandana and a tricorn hat slowly peered out from around the corner. He flashed her a sheepish grin before stepping further into the room. She was met with the sudden desire to slap him for blatantly ignoring her wishes before she came across a different 

urge entirely. Without saying a word, and without waiting for him to do so either, she walked to him and tightly wrapped her arms around his midsection. A few, brief moments passed before she felt him embrace her back.

"Glad to see me, eh?"

Elizabeth smirked at him as she pulled away. "_Glad _may not be the operative word." She slapped him playfully in the arm. "What are you doing here?? I cautioned you to stay away!"

"An' since when do I listen to anyone's warnings?" He grinned at her, that infuriating yet charming grin, as he dodged another slap. "You told me to avoid the Dauntless while at sea. You said nothing about avoidin' her passengers while on land."

"Not that it isn't good to see you, but how did you know where to find me?" she asked, crossing her arms lightly.

"I have connections." He moseyed into the room, running his fingers over the wood of the fireplace mantle and eyeing the decorative trinkets that adorned the bookshelves in the corner. "All I had to do was ask around. See if there were any parties to be had."

"Liar."

Jack whirled around, still grinning. "Quite a few carriages seemed to be heading in this direction. All I _really_ had to do was wait for them to leave again." He sauntered back over to her, pulling a folded piece of parchment out from his jacket. "I thought ye might like it if I delivered this to you in person."

"It is good to see you," she said quietly, her eyes sad.

"What?" Noticing this, his brow furrowed.

"You should go," she whispered, hanging her head. "I could never forgive myself if you got caught."

"Now, now," he said with a clicking of his tongue. He turned around to further inspect the room. "This was _my _idea, as I recall." He flopped into the arm-chair and shook his finger at her. "I'll not have you taking credit for it." Elizabeth watched him as he frowned, reached behind him, grabbed the decorative pillow and tossed it across the room. He nonchalantly looked at his fingernails. "Besides, I just got here."

"Well, your timing is horrid," she said teasingly. She moved to sit opposite him in the edge of the bed. "You should have arrived hours ago."

"Ahh," he smiled and nodded knowingly. "Then the party might have actually been a party, eh?"

"Precisely," she sighed, flopping back onto the bed. "This place is beautiful, but I can't wait to go home."

"An' why's that?" Elizabeth felt the bed dip and picked her head up for a brief moment to see him sitting beside her. "Isn't this type of thing your shtick, Lizzie?"

"Hardly," she laughed. "I always feel like I'm on display."

"You _are _on display," he reminded her. "The bride-to-be, remember?"

"Of course." She rolled her eyes. "I just hate this dreary city… it's so cold and… gray."

"You hate this city because you don't know where to go to have a good time." She eyed him suspiciously as he stood up and twirled his mustache.

"You can't possibly be suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

Jack smirked. "I _am _suggesting what you think I'm suggesting." He paused, frowning slightly. "What do you think I'm suggesting?"

"I cannot sneak out of here, we'll be caught!"

"Oh, dearest, you clearly don't know me at all. I _never _get caught." Elizabeth snorted, making him shoot her an offended glance before looking upwards in thought. "Well, except that one time…" He waved his hand at her. "…and then in… oh, never mind. This time will be different. I'll be extra, special careful." She smiled at him, looking away briefly as she shook her head.

"It'll never work."

"Of course it will. Now change into something less girly an' frilly an' whatnot and we'll be off." He turned around to see her yawning.

"And what is it you'd have me wear?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said softly.

"Jack!"

"No! I don't mean _nothing-_nothing. I mean…" He let out a puff of frustration. "You're tired, Lizzie. Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," she protested, rather unconvincingly as she yawned again. He smiled at her and walked over to the bed, picking up her hand and bringing it to his lips with a sweet, however brief, kiss. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up into his dark eyes.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth. Perhaps I can whisk you away tomorrow, then?"

"Yes," she nodded, suppressing a groan when he released her hand. She would have been content for him to hold onto it for a few moments longer. "Where are you staying? How will I know where to find you?"

"Finnegan's. S'an Irish pub near Fleet Street. A friend of mine owns it an' is lettin' me stay in a room above the bar."

"Alright," she nodded, watching with sad eyes as he began to walk away. "Jack!" she called, springing from the bed and rushing to him. Not knowing what to do when she reached him, she paused before hesitantly leaning in and kissing his cheek. "Be safe?"

Jack winked at her and grabbed onto her hand again. "As always." He brought it to his lips again, though this time he let the kiss there linger, and Elizabeth begged every God she could think of for her knees to stay strong. "Arrivederci, Lizzie."

Without another word, he had disappeared into the darkness from whence he had come.

"Oh, no…" Elizabeth whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her torso. She doubted the butterflies in her stomach were not from anything she'd eaten that evening. If she hadn't been before… now, she was really in trouble.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, guys, that's it for now!

Just so you know (in case you didn't), "Arrivederci" means "Until we meet again," in Italian.

Also, this is your last chance to vote in the poll! I'm taking it down before the posting of the next chapter, so if you haven't already, vote!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you at Chapter 8!


	10. A Misunderstanding

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 8—A Misunderstanding**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Oh, boys. I've had this written for two days now and had every intention of posting it yesterday. But on the way home from running some errands with my mom, we got a call from my little brother (who's away at college in Chico). Turns out he got sick and wanted to come home. (He's pretty aloof when he's here, spending most of his available time with his friends, and the minute he gets sick, what does he do? Call mom. LOL!) Now my mother, being the Mama Bear that she is, was not about to let him drive the 3 hour (plus) trip down I-5, so we got in the car and drove straight there to get him, then got in the car and drove home. Oi…

So. ANYWAYS!

The results are in and the new character I asked you to name will be introduced in this chapter. (The winner is _Rosalind_.) Thanks to everyone who voted! Now, without further babblings from me, on with Chapter 8!

* * *

A light autumn breeze swept in the open balcony doors, rustling the plain sheath curtains that adorned them. Elizabeth would have been content to sleep for several more hours, having gotten to bed even later than she thought she would due to the unexpected (yet pleasant) visit from Jack. However, the casual poking over her shoulder and the timid, mousy voice of Beatrice, the chambermaid assigned to her quarters, awoke her from her dreams.

"Miss? Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes tightly together before forcing them open. Her surroundings blurry at first, due from the tiredness she still felt all over, she blinked several times before seeing the open French doors. She frowned slightly, distinctively remembering closing them the night before after Jack left, before rolling onto her back and looking up at Beatrice.

"Is it morning already?" she asked, her voice saturated with sleepiness. She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Yes, Miss. Your father has asked me to prepare you for the day."

"To _prepare _me?"

"Yes, Miss." Beatrice paused for a moment, glancing down at her willowy frame. Elizabeth's eyes followed her own and they grew wide with fear when she recognized a familiar style of parchment clutched in her tiny hands. Beatrice, noticing this, cleared her throat so delicately that the sound she made could scarcely be heard. "This is for you, I think. A message, I believe."

"Where did you get that?" Elizabeth shot straight up in bed, not intending for her voice to snap the way it did, but not caring that it had. Her heart beat in her chest and her thoughts swirled around her head in a dizzy panic. She knew full well that as a woman (an unmarried woman, at that) her messages were always intercepted by the male of the house and deemed proper before going to her. That was the main reason why she received Jack's letters through Will.

"I—I found it, Miss. On the floor."

The pounding of her heart lessened a little, but she knew she (nor Jack) was out of the clear quite yet. "Did you read it?" she asked quickly.

"N—no, Miss." Beatrice's hand was practically quivering when she handed the letter to Elizabeth. "I didn't read it, I swear!"

"Thank you," Elizabeth said quietly, maintaining her eye-contact with the frail maid as she snatched the letter from her hand and clutched it to her chest. "I would be most grateful for your discretion. My father, nor my fiancé, can know that you found _anything_. Please keep this to yourself?" Even if Beatrice hadn't read the letter, it was still important that word didn't get out that strange, foreign messages were popping up in her bedroom.

"I swear it, Miss. I won't tell a soul."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, nodding her head and letting out a long-held sigh of relief. "I appreciate your silence." She let her brown eyes flutter down to the paper clutched in her hands. The outer fold was crisp and she immediately knew that this was a new letter, one she hadn't read yet. How Jack had gotten it into her room, she didn't know, but she supposed it didn't really matter. Elizabeth looked back up at Beatrice and politely cleared her throat.

"Of course, Miss." Beatrice, with knowing eyes, nodded her head slightly and curtseyed before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her. Elizabeth waited to hear her dainty footsteps retreating down the hall before unfolding the letter.

_Dear Lizzie,_

_I thought it only right of me to give you fair warning before my next visit, seeing as how my __last__ visit was most unannounced._

_On yesterday's evening, I promised you a night on the town, and I night on the town you shall have. London is only "dreary" to you because you, my dear, are stuck in a dreary social setting of ridiculous costume and unbecoming wigs. I will come for you tonight, at the same hour as last night, and will give you an exclusive tour of how the other half lives. I can't imagine you've yet to visit Tortuga, but you'll be with me, and I intend on proving to you that the right places in London can be just as exhilarating._

_I took the liberty of tucking a spare set of clothing under your bed. We'll have less difficulty sneaking away from your captors without the swish and swash of a dress. The guards might have qualms with letting Norrington Jr.'s fiancé off the estate grounds, but a servant boy they will not give second thought to. _

_Before tonight, I would also like to remind you of my whereabouts, in case we should run into (however unlikely, seeing as how you'll be with me and whatnot) trouble this evening. Should we get separated, head directly to Finnegan's, a block west of Fleet Street. The owner is Patrick Finnegan, the curly-headed brute of a man with a scar above his right eye. If you tell him I sent you, he'll not give you an ounce of trouble._

_Until tonight, Lizzie…_

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

Elizabeth smiled softly to herself before setting the letter down on the unused pillow case beside her. She had always been a light sleeper, waking up at the slightest howl of the wind. Only Jack could manage to get into her room without her knowing it. She rolled onto her stomach and shifted sideways, allowing her front half to hang off the edge of the bed. The tips of her golden hair kissed the surface of the floor as she peered under the wooden bed frame. Sure enough, there was a neatly arranged parcel tucked towards the wall, a pair of worn-in boots sitting next to it. She had never worn boy clothes before…

The heavy sound of footsteps followed by the familiar hum of her father's voice caused her to gasp and she nearly tumbled right over the edge of the bed. They drew closer and closer as she quickly scrambled up onto the mattress and grabbed Jack's letter, shoving it under the sheets and out of sight. She'd gotten a head-rush from the quickness of her actions and squinted briefly before a light knock sounded and the knob twisted.

"My late sleeper," he chimed, striding across the room, several maids behind him. "So much like your mother, you are." Elizabeth only smiled, tucking a strand of misplaced hair out of her face. "You've missed breakfast, you know."

"Oh…" Like she cared. "I'm not hungry."

"Very well," her father sighed. "I do wish for you to rouse yourself, though. We've a busy day ahead of us."

"Have we?" She feigned a yawn and rubbed her eyes, pretending she had only _just_ woken up.

"Yes, darling," her father chuckled. "Had you been awake, you would know that we've been called upon by Mr. and Mrs. Avery."

The announcement of two very familiar names sent a jolt of excitement through her, the kind of excitement she'd gotten used to only experiencing at the receiving of Jack's letters.

"Have we really?" Elizabeth asked, shifting forward suddenly and coming to rest on her knees, clasping her hands together. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of the off-white parchment of Jack's letter against the stark white of the sheets. Her father laughed at her sudden burst of energy and he closed his eyes, shaking his head, giving her the perfect opportunity to quickly pull the sheet over the paper again. She glanced around him to the two maids. If they had noticed, they were politely pretending not to.

"Yes, my dear, we have. So get dressed, we've a long carriage ride ahead of us." Elizabeth grinned and padded out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cool, wooden floors. She and her father had had hardly _any_ alone time since her engagement to James and she was thrilled to get to spend a good part of the day with him. She was about to express this enthusiasm to him as when he paused at the door, turning to face her. "And James is waiting for us downstairs, so do hurry."

Without another word, he had disappeared back down the hallway, leaving Elizabeth's smile to fade away with the sound of his footsteps.

* * *

Elizabeth stared out to the rolling, green hills of the English countryside, only half-listening to the conversation between James and her father as London fell farther and farther behind them. How was she _ever _supposed to express her growing discomfort of being engaged to her father if she never got the chance to be alone with him? She closed her eyes and let the image of the rolling hills change into the rolling of the ocean waves, and somewhere in the back of her imagination she could smell the faint aroma of rum, salt and sweat…

"Don't you agree, Elizabeth? Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?" Shaken from her reverie, she straightened up to find her two male companions staring at her. "Beg pardon?"

"Don't you think a honeymoon in Paris would be most appropriate?" James asked.

"Oh. Yes." She faintly nodded her head and slowly tuned out their voices as they started talking again. She no longer cared if all the wedding plans were made by her father and fiancé. The more planning _they _did, the less _she _had to think about it. She leaned back in her seat, allowing her head to rest lightly against the carriage wall. She closed her eyes, begging for the dreams of a faraway place to take her soon.

* * *

Four pairs of shoes, a butler followed by three guests to the Avery Plantation, clicked against the marble foyer floors.

"Right this way," the butler, as stiff and uninteresting as he was in Elizabeth's childhood, said, opening the parlor doors to where an older couple and a young woman sat. "Master and Mrs. Avery, Mistress Avery," he bowed his head slightly as he spoke, capturing their attention. The three residents rose to their feet. "May I present a Governor Weatherby Swann, Commodore James Norrington, and Miss Elizabeth Swann, to see you." A formal series of bows and curtseys were demonstrated by all parties as the butler slowly walked to the doors and left the room. Once he was gone, Elizabeth's father and the man matching his age laughed in that haven't-seen-you-in-ages way.

"Ahh, Weatherby. I haven't seen you in ages, my dear, old friend," Master Avery said as he stepped forward and the two men heartily shook hands. Charles Avery was a dominating man, if only by the boom in his voice. In height, he matched Elizabeth's father almost perfectly, as did he match him in wealth and power. His wig was also in the same style of Governor Swann's, though unwilling to accept his own age, its light brown color had yet to be retired for a gray one. The source of his wealth was never entirely apparent to Elizabeth, though she knew that after several appointments from the king, he'd retired with a decent sum of money at a young age to make even more of it with his tea plantation. How he'd gotten the tea to grow in the foul weather that England had to offer, Elizabeth would never know.

"It has been too long, Charles," Governor Swann agreed. He turned his attention to Mrs. Avery, politely kissing her hand. "And Constance, how lovely it is to see you."

"Look at that _tan_, I see the Caribbean treats you well!" she giggled. Constance Avery was a petite, curvy woman, a full head shorter than her husband. Through all her silly, flighty antics, Elizabeth remembered her fondly, especially in the absence of her own mother. Elizabeth watched, her nerves jumping with excitement as Constance turned and beckoned the young woman over. "Darling, come say hello to our old friend."

A petite young girl, the precise age of Elizabeth down to the very day, walked with all the refinery she was expected to have to her mother. Her dark brown, almost black, hair was pinned atop her head in a style very similar to Elizabeth's. Her big, round green eyes were just as lovely as she remembered them in her childhood. Constance placed a hand on the small of her daughter's back.

"You remember our daughter, Rosalind," Constance said, beaming at her only child with all the pride Elizabeth wished she'd known from _her_ mother.

"Of course, of course," Governor Swann nodded, his voice growing soft with fond recollections of many years passed. "My, how you've grown." He politely kissed her hand the same way he'd kissed her mother's.

"Governor Swann," Rosalind nodded her head and curtseyed.

"Well, come then! We must retire to the dining room for lunch, shall we?" Charles Avery said loudly, clasping his hands together.

* * *

The shrill giggling of two young women gave the gardens of the estate a vibrant sense of life as Elizabeth and Rosalind walked around the rose bushes, their arms linked. To any outsider, it would seem that not a day had passed since last seeing each other at the age of twelve. The two laughed and whispered and gossiped as they went, neither paying any mind to the male escort assigned to them by their father. _"As if the flowers would swallow us alive,"_ Rosalind had whispered to Elizabeth.

"Oh, Lizzie my dear, I always knew you would end up on a pirate ship! I only wish I could have experienced it with you."

Elizabeth laughed. "I'm sure most of what you've heard is a complete fabrication."

"I know, my girl. Those who talk don't know of you the way I do," Rosalind assured her. "Still… there were quite a few things that caught my attention."

"Such as?" Elizabeth asked, raising her eyebrows.

"That you spent the night _alone_ in the arms a pirate on some desolate little island somewhere," Rosalind laughed, her face growing deadly serious when she saw a glimmer of distant longing in her friend's eyes. "Oh, Elizabeth… you _must _tell me everything!" They paused in their walking and Rosalind took Elizabeth by the hands, squeezing them gently.

"There isn't much to tell," Elizabeth said quietly, her hesitant eyes darting to the escort several feet behind them.

A glimmer of a very different kind flashed through Rosalind's eyes. "Leave us," she instructed, craning her neck to look at the escort.

"But Miss—"

"Oh, posh! Blame it on me, tell my father I hid from you." The firmness in her voice left absolutely no room for argument, and with a tentative nod of his head, the escort was gone. "Come," she said quietly, turning her attention back to Elizabeth as she led her around a tall hedge and towards a gazebo, where they both sat, facing inward towards each other. "_Now _you must tell me everything."

"I did spend the night on an island with a pirate," Elizabeth confessed.

"Name him!" Rosalind begged quickly.

Elizabeth smirked. "The one and only Captain Jack Sparrow," she confided, lowering her voice as if the surrounding roses could hear her.

Rosalind's eyes widened in excitement and a large smile crossed her lips. "No!" she gasped.

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth confirmed, nodding her head. "Though I did not spend the night in his arms, as the rumors might suggest." She looked away, remembering that night perfectly. "Well… I suppose I did, but not the way people say I did."

"Do continue."

"I was upset," Elizabeth sighed. "Jack merely comforted me."

"Oh, you're on a first name basis with the man, are you?" Rosalind teased, poking her friend lightly in the arm.

"And not only that," Elizabeth taunted, grinning. Rosalind gasped again. "I dare to call him a friend. We've been exchanging letters ever since his escape from Port Royale."

"You wicked girl!" Rosalind giggled. She shook her head, her face growing with seriousness. "I take it, then, that this is a _secret_ correspondence? I hardly doubt your father, nor your commodore, would allow you to exchange niceties with the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow."

"They would not," Elizabeth said sadly, looking down at her hands. "Only one other knows out of the necessity for receiving his letters at all."

"So you're one of the few in this world who know of his whereabouts, then, are you?" Rosalind asked.

"I am," Elizabeth replied, another grin crossing her face. "When I told him of my trip to London, he took it upon himself to meet me here." Rosalind's eyes grew wide, shaking her head in disbelief. "He did! He snuck into my room on the estate. I tell you, he is the most brazen man I've ever met in the entirety of my life."

"My Lord," Rosalind sighed. "Where was he?"

"In Ireland, I believe, though I'm not entirely sure. Though I know his next destination was _not _intended to be England."

"Oh my dear, you know what this means, don't you?" Rosalind asked, her face dropping slightly. Elizabeth's brow furrowed and she shook her head in confusion. "He _likes _you!"

"No!" Elizabeth scoffed.

"_Yes_. What kind of man would make a special journey across the ocean _just _to see you if he did not have any kind of affection towards you?"

Something deep in Elizabeth's chest stung slightly and her eyes averted those of her friend. "Well, whether he does or he doesn't, it matters not."

"You're engaged," Rosalind said sadly.

"I'm engaged…" Elizabeth sighed, remembering the events that awaited her when she returned to London. "Though Jack has promised to take me out tonight. But I am in need of a way to tell him I accept his invitation. I haven't the means I have in Port Royale to get a message to me."

"Well, give it to me, you silly girl, I'll take it!"

"How will you get it to him?"

Rosalind groaned. "My mother wishes for me to venture into the city to purchase a new dress for _your _engagement ball," she teased again. "Apparently, only a new one will be satisfactory." She rolled her eyes and paused before continuing. "The driver of my carriage has known me since I was an infant. He would keep the secret for me." She stood up and grabbed Elizabeth's hand. "Now come. We must return to the house so you can write this letter."

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_I am in the study of a dear friend and haven't the time to embellish the length of this message, but I gratefully accept your invitation for this evening. Come an hour or so later than you intended, however, for I believe the ball will last longer than the previous night's._

_Be safe._

_Elizabeth_

* * *

Rosalind made her way through the crowd of England's wealthiest towards the "happy" couple as they greeted the last of their guests. When Elizabeth saw her coming, she smiled and waved warmly, causing a twinge of regret to surge through Rosalind's chest. She wished she could match Elizabeth's joy at seeing her and had debated for hours on whether or not to tell her the truth…

When she reached her friend and the commodore, she tugged on her arm slightly, forcing a jubilant smile in James' direction.

"You wouldn't mind if I stole your beautiful bride-to-be for a few moments?"

James' brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded and smiled. "No, of course."

Rosalind kept silent, despite Elizabeth's questions, as she led her to the very corner of the ballroom, where they were unlikely to be disrupted. Elizabeth had spoken so fondly of her pirate captain while at the plantation that afternoon. She could only imagine that she thought of Jack with affections more deeply rooted than friendship. She could only imagine how the news would affect her. She could only imagine the disappointment…

"Rosalind, what is it?" Elizabeth whispered persistently when they reached their secluded destination. Judging by the panicked look on Rosalind's face, something wasn't right. "Was there something wrong with the letter?"

"I… I don't know if I should tell you or not," Rosalind confessed, trying to be as honest as she could without giving anything away.

"I think if there is any debate as to whether or not you should tell me something," Elizabeth explained, "that is a good indication that you should definitely tell me."

Rosalind took in a deep breath, wanting to tell her the truth, yet not wanting to break her heart. "I was successful in delivering the letter to Finnegan's," Rosalind explained, trying to be careful with how she told her. "I gave it to the man you described." She hesitated. "Tell me again what Jack looked like?" she asked, her eyebrows going up.

"Oh, there's no mistaking him," Elizabeth broke eye contact, her expression softening and a light going on behind her eyes as she spoke of Jack. "His skin is a warm tan… he's a leather tricorn hat, a red bandana underneath, and an incredible amount of hair." Elizabeth laughed. "I believe he has more hair than I do!"

"Yes," Rosalind said softly, her false smile of comfort fading. Just as she had assumed, the man she had seen _was _him after all.

"Tell me?" Elizabeth's eyebrows went up in concern. "Please?"

"I saw Captain Sparrow myself…" Rosalind confessed.

"You did?" Elizabeth asked, a sense of urgent excitement growing in her voice. "How did he look?"

"He was…"

"Tell me!"

"Hewasinthearmsofanotherwoman." Rosalind spat, her eyes shooting to the floor. Elizabeth was silence and as soon as Rosalind looked up to her, she instantly regretted it, for the struggle to not look hurt and disappointed was blaringly obvious.

The silence lasted for several moments as Elizabeth's thoughts shot around through her head at violent speeds. Jack. In the arms of a woman. Just how exactly was she supposed to feel about this? Then again… how she was _supposed _to feel and how she actually felt were two different feelings entirely. Jack had always made her feel so special! Like the previous night, when he had kissed her hand not once, but _twice_. He made her feel like he… like he _liked _her in the way that she had so desperately wanted him to. And now he'd… he'd gone ahead and… It hurt. A lot. Especially when she had… when she had dared to care for him.

"Rosalind," Elizabeth said firmly, looking up from her spot on the floor, begging her eyes not to cry and her voice not to shake. "You're sure it was Jack?"

"Yes." Rosalind seemed to shake as she spoke, though not because of uncertainty at what she'd seen, but anguish at hurting her friend.

"Do you suppose your driver could deliver another note to Finnegan's in the course of the party?"

"Yes… I'm sure he could."

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_I am sorry to break our meeting this evening, but with the amount of guests at the party this evening, it is sure to go on longer than expected. I know now, before the night is even halfway through, that I will be too tired to go anywhere other than my bed._

_Again, I am sorry._

_Elizabeth_

* * *

Had Elizabeth not known of Jack's tryst with that woman, she likely would have not allowed James to escort her to her bedroom after the ball's end. But she felt a different kind of tired that night. The _defeated _kind of tired.

"Elizabeth," James said softly, patting her hand through their linked arms. "I sense that something is troubling you." They came to pause outside her bedroom door.

A thought crossed her mind, a memory from yesterday morning.

"I suppose I'm still homesick," she lied, trying with all that she had to force the image of a pair of fathomless dark eyes out of her head. "Do you… do you remember yesterday morning? You promised that if I wished to return earlier than scheduled, you would allow it?"

"Of course." His eyebrows went up. "Is that what you wish?"

Elizabeth nodded uncertainly. "How soon can we leave?"

"Well, I…" He hesitated. "I suppose… if I arouse the crew of the Dauntless and hire the labor of my father's staff… and perhaps my uncle's staff…" He trailed off again. "How soon to you wish to leave?"

"As soon as possible," she uttered, looking away from him. "Perhaps some of the gentlemen at the party would be willing to loan the use of their staff as well?" She knew it would take a lot of manpower and a lot of London's resources to have the Dauntless ready to go by morning.

"Perhaps they would." James nodded. "Sleep well, Elizabeth. I'll have Beatrice wake you all the earlier in the morning if the voyage is possible."

Elizabeth waited outside her bedroom, watching as James disappeared down the hall and standing there longer still. She couldn't make herself see Jack. She'd never been one to run from their problems. But Jack _was _the problem, a problem she was in no way ready to face. If she was so unsure as to her own feelings for the man, then how was she to address them? She felt she couldn't.

Then _that_ was why.

That was why she was running.

* * *

Jack frowned, shoving the letter inside his jacket as he walked. As he stepped off the last step outside Finnegan's, he squinted, the harsh morning sunlight stinging his eyes. Something was wrong. He didn't know what it was. He was completely unable explain why he felt the way he did, but something just wasn't right. He could practically hear the apprehension in Elizabeth's voice as he read her words.

Her message had been so brief, so cold. Not at all a message that his Lizzie would write.

He weaved his way through the people walking London's streets, making his way towards the docs. Walking by the sea, even if it was the unsightly Port of London, always had a way of calming his nerves. He had just come to the oceanfront when something caught his eye…

…a set of billowing, white sails… the sails of the Dauntless, pulling out of the harbor.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, guys! That's it for this chapter. I'm sorry about the lack of Jack, but he'll be more substantial in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 9!


	11. The Journey Home

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 9—The Journey Home**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Wow! Thank you all so, so much for the phenomenal reviews from the last chapter! You guys are so sweet! I didn't think I was going to get the chance to update tonight, but I'm glad I did. I already have the next chapter written, but tomorrow is my lab day and I have a history test on Tuesday, so it's just a matter of finding the time to get it typed. If I get enough reviews between this chapter and tomorrow afternoon, I'll definitely make time to update! :-D

As promised, there is more Jack in this chapter and even more in the next! (Actually, the next chapter is _all _Jack, which I know makes _me _grin like an idiot.)

Anyways, thanks again for the feedback! I really love hearing from you all! Oh, and before I forget: to driver picks the music, there's a little "gift" for you in this chapter (or rather, your niece, who's still the coolest toddler I've ever heard of).

On with Chapter 9!

* * *

Elizabeth stared out the small window in her cabin, her eyes as vacant as she felt inside. She watched with an utter lack of enthusiasm as the flat horizon line, void of any signs of nearby life, stretched out all around her. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them lightly. The ship was drafty and with every slight pitch of the waves, it creaked with noises she had never heard before and wished to never hear again.

However, it wasn't the choppy waves or the haunting noises of the ship that made her stomach churn. It was her cowardice, how horribly she felt for convincing James to leave England the way they did.

For starters, she'd left the Norrington Estate with very little time to thank her future in-laws for their hospitality. Despite her growing indifference (in terms of romantic inklings, at least) to their son, she was quite fond of them.

Henry Norrington was a kind, elderly man full of amusing stories, most of which she surmised were completely fictional, but fascinating nonetheless. Elizabeth loved how his eyes were always smiling and how he always gently kissed her hand when he asked her to dance at the many social gatherings they held. He always called her "my dear" and reminded her, in many ways, of her grandfather.

Emma Norrington was, in more ways than one, the perfect match for her husband. She was a mass of contradictions, which was quite entertaining in its own right. She was soft-spoken, yet assertive in her beliefs. She loved to talk and debate, yet she had the most innate ability to just sit and listen in a way that let a person know she was _really_ listening. She was beautiful, even as she approached her 65th birthday. She was smart, well-cultured… a true inspiration to any young socialite. If Elizabeth had still _felt _like a socialite, she surely would have looked up to her.

Now, with London far behind her, Elizabeth found it painfully ironic that she looked forward to having such wonderful in-laws more than she looked forward to having a husband.

Second of all, with the ship's early departure, she had never been given the opportunity to say goodbye to Rosalind. She was Elizabeth's only childhood friend (aside from Will, of course) and while seeing her again in Port Royale for the wedding was imminent, she regretted not being able to at least give a proper goodbye. She was forced to leave a letter for her with Beatrice, one with as many lies as her excuse to James. She was unable, or unwilling (she had yet to determine which) to share her true reasoning for leaving so early.

The third reason, and the one that pulled at her heart the most, was leaving without seeing or speaking to Jack. She hated herself for treating him the way she had, regretting it almost the minute the Dauntless left the Port of London. Her reason for being angry with him seemed so unfounded now, so ridiculous. Jack was not _hers_. She was engaged to another man, for crying out loud! If he wanted to share an embrace with another woman, then let him, he was free to do so. Not to mention the fact that said embrace could have been completely innocent. Jack was a flirt, and he had many friends and acquaintances. The odds held that he had no romantic ties to this mystery woman whatsoever.

Elizabeth bit her lip, staring out at the horizon, praying that a set of black sails would appear. He could come and stage that kidnapping they'd joked about. She wouldn't even struggle. She'd go willingly. Oh, if only she'd been brave enough just to face him and talk to him about it! That's what _he _would have done, had their situation been reversed. No… their situation already had been reversed. She was the one due to be married and Jack had been nothing but cordial about it from the very beginning.

She had to do something. She had to make it right, had to contact him somehow to explain and beg for his forgiveness for her unfair actions. She'd overheard James and the ship's captain discussing their travel plans. The Dauntless would be stopping in the next available port for the supplies they hadn't had the time to pack before leaving London. She didn't know where she would go to mail the letter, but she'd worry about that later. For now, all she had to do was find the courage to get it written.

Elizabeth pulled herself away from the window, making her way to the small desk opposite her bunk. She reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a clean, neat sheet of parchment and reached for the quill and ink opposite her.

_Dear Jack,_

_Before I say __anything__, I must offer my most sincere apology for my inexcusable actions. As you must know by now, we have left London, and I regret saying that my neglect to inform you of this sudden change in plans was intentional. I acted on emotion and sudden impulse and I wish now that I had not, even though there is no way to take it back. I wish there was…_

_I suppose it would only be right of me to start from the beginning. With another engagement celebration to prepare for, I had no way of getting word to you that I was looking forward to our meeting later that night. And I was looking forward to it, despite how you may not believe it now. I do so enjoy our time together, however brief it may be. _

_I was fortunate enough to visit a dear old friend of mine earlier that afternoon, and it was she who delivered the letter to your temporary place of residence. When I saw her at the party later that evening, she told me she saw you in the arms of a woman. So you must know now the reason for my childish behavior. If I am being completely honest with you, and myself, I do not know why I reacted to this news the way I did. I have absolutely no right to behave with the slightest influence of jealously and I am so, so sorry for it. Instead of waiting for your explanation for what I know must have been a completely innocent greeting between you and a friend, I judged your actions and ran. Again, I am so sorry._

_I understand completely if my poor actions are cause for you to cease contact with me, though I hope with an anxious heart that this is not the case. Your friendship means so much to me, Jack, and I don't know what I would do without it. I do recognize, however, that the loss of it would be my fault, and in such an event I take full responsibility for my actions. _

_I'm sorry Jack. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me._

_Fondly Yours,_

_Elizabeth_

As she finished writing, she still wasn't sure how her letter would reach him or if it would reach him at all. She knew it would be smarter of her to wait until she got back to Port Royale, where she could safely hand it over to Will. As she folded the parchment in half and prepared to seal it, all she could do was pray that he would understand. As she had plainly written in her letter, he meant so much to her and the importance of having him in her life was growing at a rate so fast it startled her.

She could not say with the slightest degree of certainty that she loved him. Perhaps she _did _love him, but was she _in love _with him? She just didn't know. What she did know was that she had feelings for him, feelings that she had never felt with anyone else before. Not James, not Will. Jack was the first man who had ever made her so solid and so weightless at the same time.

She drew in a shaky breath as she thought about him. None of her feelings regarding Jack mattered now anyways. Even if she was falling for him, and even if he was falling for her, he wasn't anymore. Not after what she'd done.

A trust had been broken and it was her fault.

* * *

After the Dauntless had made her stop, it took very little time to get back to Port Royale. She pulled into harbor during the early morning hours of a Saturday morning, which Elizabeth found more than convenient for she would not be dragged to church by her father or her fiancé. As exhausted as she was, and as content as she would have been to quickly return to the mansion and sleep for the rest of the day, she immediately took the long walk on foot into town. She had to get her letter to Will.

She was so used to Will greeting her at the door upon arriving and was surprised when he did not. She struggled to push open the heavy wooden door while keeping a firm grip on the letter in her hand. When she entered, the shop felt dark and musty, and would have been much darker had it not been for the sunlight pouring in through the windows. It appeared there was no one there at all.

"Will?" she called, venturing further into the shop. No one answered, which was disconcerting to say the least. Will was immensely dedicated to his craft, and to be away from the shop at this time of the day was did not fit him. "Mr. Brown?" Still, no answer, though the latter was hardly surprising.

Elizabeth came to stand in the direct center of the shop before letting out a dejected sigh. She let her shoulders fall forward, biting her lip in an attempt not to cry out of sheer frustration. "Where is everyone?" she whispered under her breath.

"Oh, ye know…" The sound of a familiar, laconic voice behind her made her gasp and jump and she whirled. There, leaning against one of the shop's wooden support beams, was Jack. His arms were crossed and there was a smirk on his face, though it didn't seem to match his usual, carefree smirk. There was something different about it… bitterness, was it? "They're prob'ly out'n'about, seein' the sights. Blacksmiths like to have their fun too, darlin'."

"Jack…" She felt breathless, that crazy weightless feeling he always seemed to give her. She began to run towards him, her arms outstretched to hug him but he took a step back and held his hands out. She immediately felt a sharp jab in her chest. She continued to fight back tears as she forced herself to be reasonable. "How did you get here so quickly?" she asked.

"Well, with the pesky lil' Interceptor out of the way, the Pearl's once again the fastest ship in the Caribbean." He paused, his expression dropping slightly. "She's been anchored on the other side of the island for a day or so now."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," she said quietly, looking at her feet.

"Are you?" he asked, his voice nonchalant. There was a brief, awkward silence between them before she spoke again.

"I owe you an explanation." Elizabeth forced her eyes up to his.

"That you do." His voice had quickly gone from nonchalant to curt.

"I'm sorry!" she instantly said, the tears no longer remaining anonymous as they fell down her cheeks. "I misjudged you Jack and I'm sorry! I had no right and… and…" Embarrassed, she covered her face with her hands and took several deep breaths. When she had gathered just enough courage to remove them, she gasped, for he had silently moved to be standing directly in front of her.

"Don't cry," he said, his voice still holding a small trace of sharpness, but more like _his_. He breathed in deep through his nostrils. "S'not worth cryin' over."

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"I can see that," he chuckled. "But just so ye know, Lizzie, her name was Delia. She's Patrick Finnegan's wife. I've known 'er for nearly fifteen years… was a hug between friends that hadn't seen each other in quite some time, that's all."

"Wh—what…?" How did he know? How did he _always _know?

"I assume that's for me?" Jack motioned his head to the parchment in her hand.

"It is," she nodded weakly before handing it to him. "I'm sorry Jack."

He sighed. "Enough o' that." He took the letter from her before walking towards the door.

"Jack?" Where was he going? It felt like he'd just gotten there! Was he really leaving so soon? "You're still cross with me, aren't you?" she called after him as he opened the door.

"Perhaps," Jack replied, turning back to her with a half-smile on his face. He winked at her, holding the letter up. "I'll get back to you on this." With that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the empty shop.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's it for now! I'm sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but it's getting late and I have school tomorrow morning.

Thanks so much for reading, now go review!


	12. Dear Jack, Dear Lizzie III

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**DEAR JACK, DEAR LIZZIE III**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! They're wonderful!

This is another one of those chapterettes, but there is only a letter from Jack this time. And to make up for there only being one letter, it is a bit longer and quite pivotal.

Thanks again for the reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

_My Dearest Lizzie,_

_Before one word is said, I feel the deepest urge to calm your endlessly wound nerves. You no longer need to beg for my acceptance of your most sincere apology, for whether you know it or not, you already have it. The only thing I needed was time alone with my thoughts, and now that I've had that time, things are right between us. I do not have it in me to stay angry with one for too long a time, especially when the one in question is you and especially when the matter of said anger is something so trivial. Anger is a negative aspect for all parties involved, the giver and receiver alike, and I have no use for it. Unless you were to steal my ship (which I'm assuming you won't), I'd forgive you anything. What needed to be said was said. Fret not, darling, I forgive you. _

_I suppose it would be to my benefit and perhaps yours as well to clarify my exact thoughts on the matter. I am not sure as to whether or not I was ever truly angry with you to begin with. Disappointment and confusion seem to be the most likely causes for my upset. The confusion came initially, when you retreated from London without word and left me to assume to worst. The disappointment came later, when I realized your reason for leaving and how unjust it was. You yourself said I was a good man and seemed to stand by that belief with a firm footing, yet you were so quick to judge my character and question my loyalty to you. So in summary, you say I am a good man with empty words. My only wish is for you to truly believe it. _

_Now, mistake me not, Elizabeth. I do not give the slightest nod to another's opinion of me. After all, life is too short to worry about people liking you. I like me, and once upon a time, that was enough. However, not too long ago, I met this spitfire of a lass, a pirate disguised in a socialite's clothing, and my way of thinking has been slightly askew ever __since. Not that I mind it… there's nothing wrong with being askew, and it's actually far more interesting than being normal. As has been proven on many occasions, a situation involving you is entirely different than a situation not involving you. What I am trying to say is that Elizabeth Swann's opinion is the only one that I care to give a second thought on. Let James and your father think of me as they wish. They may think me a black-hearted swashbuckler not fit to lick the dirt off your pretty little shoes and it would not change a bloody thing. However, your faith in my character and your genuine, constant concern for my well-being is more important to me than I am capable of expressing. You may find this difficult to believe (or then again, you may not) but I have never had a friend as true as you before. Not someone I trust as I trust you, at least._

_Now so long as I am confessing things that I know I am sure to regret confessing later, I feel the need to keep going and address a problem I find most troubling. I have the strongest urge to offer my true opinion regarding your upcoming marriage to the good commodore. I have tried my very hardest, up until this point, to offer sound, objective advice without telling you precisely what to do. It is still not my intention to tell you what to do, for I still believe that the decision is yours, and yours alone, to make. Nonetheless, I feel that I cannot keep my heartfelt thoughts on your fiancé, nor your impending nuptials to him, to myself any longer._

_I wish that you do not misunderstand me. Norrington is a good man. I make no assumptions that he is not. I will not argue that he has always been a good man. My overactive imagination allows me the misfortune of imagining him popping out of the womb with a powdered wig and tricorn hat. However, the ability to be a good man and the ability to be a good husband are two very different abilities, and the latter is one I'm not sure your commodore can achieve. While his faithfulness and loyalty to you I do not question, I firmly believe that the key to a good marriage is happiness. Now I've never been married, so perhaps I haven't the right to say such a thing, but it __is__ how I feel. I can say, though, that I watched my very happy (and married) parents until my mother passed, and from the way they were, I can gather that if happiness is not the most important thing, it is certainly a key ingredient. The bottom line is that Norrington does not make you happy, Lizzie. You know that as well as I do and I'm willing to bet that at least William will tell you the same thing._

_Again, I hope for you to not misunderstand me. I have no desire to insult your intelligence, darling, and have no wish to question your capability to make a good decision. All I hope to do is share my beliefs, and it is my belief that believing that you will grow to love him is a false desire, a dream that will never come into fruition. Basically, marrying before you fall in love with Norrington as opposed to waiting until after marrying Norrington is a very backwards way of doing things. I know in proper __society that that is a very acceptable thing to do, but to be perfectly frank, I question the judgment of said-society._

_I cannot claim to know much about love. I would like to think that I know many different tidbits about many different subjects, though I am not sure romance is one of them. However, what I am is a keen observer and one thins is perfectly clear: you do not love James. While he might love you, it is not in the way you desire to be loved. More importantly, it is not the way you, the dread pirate Lizzie Swann, __need__ to be loved._

_Free spirits recognize other free spirits, and mine has recognized yours time and time again. I fear for it, Liz. It's struggling, fighting to break away from the suppression of a suffocating corset and an engagement ring that does not fit your finger the way it should. You don't belong with him. You cannot simply dream of obtaining your freedom. You have to reach out for it and once it is close enough, you must grab on and hold on. Never let it go._

_Well, my dearest Elizabeth, I have given you my thoughts. If you disagree with them, you will not earn my blame. It is your life to live and the choice is yours. Do with my advice what you please and know that no matter how I feel and no matter your decision, I will still seek your friendship._

_Not that you need reminding, but you're a swan, Lizzie. Fly free._

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

* * *

**A/N: **Wow! So what happens next? How will Lizzie react to this? Good, bad? Let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading, now go review!


	13. A Change of Plans

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 10—A Change of Plans**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thank you all so, so much for the fabulous reviews! They really make writing this story worthwhile. I have big plans for this story and hope to make it as long as I can! I'm going out of town a week from today (Wednesday) and hopefully I will have a few more chapters/chapterettes up by then.

Anyways! This chapter has our favorite duo realizing some deeply rooted feelings—even if they won't be actually _admitting_ them for a little while longer. We'll see the return of Phil, who's been absent since Chapter 5.

Thanks again for the reviews! On with Chapter 10!

* * *

Jack sat alone at the rickety table in the back of the Faithful Bride. One of his hands held a fierce grip on the handle of his ale mug. The fingertips of his other hand drummed nervously on the table's surface and his dark eyes were fixed on the letter that sat in front of him—the letter he had yet to send.

It wasn't that he didn't want to send the letter, on the contrary. He wanted very badly to send the letter, in fact. A year ago, it wouldn't have mattered. The damn thing would be on its way to Port Royale by now. But it wasn't _a year ago_. It was _now._ He'd told her, his Lizzie, in that letter that her opinion mattered greatly to him. That was no lie, her opinion did matter a great deal to him, and that was the main reason why his carefully thought words had not yet reached her.

Jack had no idea how Elizabeth was going to react to said-carefully thought words. One of the key aspects as to why he spun things the way he did was because the truth tended to land him in hot water. However, he didn't want to spin things with her, not anymore. He wanted to speak his mind, to let her know _exactly _how he felt about this upcoming marriage of hers… even if he wasn't entirely honesty about his reasons for telling her.

The possibility that his honesty would (again) get him into trouble was very real. She could read that letter and decide she wanted nothing more to do with him. He wasn't sure if the risk was worth it. One of two several could happen in him convincing Elizabeth to break her engagement to the good commodore. She could leave Norrington and with that freedom decide there was no further need to continue her correspondence him. She could leave Norrington and decide to live the pirate life he knew she would be so good at. Or, she could end up resenting his "advice," stay with Norrington and sever her ties with him. Jack grimaced as he took another swig of ale, wishing it were rum. It was this third reason that he supposed was chiefly responsible for him holding onto his letter. Losing Elizabeth, even if all he shared (and all he would ever share) with her was friendship, did not bode well.

Of course… that didn't necessarily mean there wasn't more than just friendship to be desired. Jack let out a shallow sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Thinking about these developing feelings made him feel… Well, he didn't know how it made him feel and that was the problem.

Thinking about Elizabeth was certainly a good thing to think about. She was beautiful. She was smart, she made him laugh. He recognized a good part of himself in her, and it seemed that she recognized the good in him, as well. Her thoughts, her ideals… he identified with them and they pulled him closer and closer to her every time he received one of her letters or got to spend time together. With every letter he read, he found himself thinking more and more about her until she occupied his every thought. He'd fall asleep at night (albeit, confusedly) thinking about her and wake up the next morning just as confused. It got to the point where he started seeing her face on complete strangers no matter where he went.

When he had the dream (the dream where she confessed her love and he was all too quick to confess it right back), he woke up covered in a sheen of cold sweet. He didn't understand love and not only that, love didn't seem to understand him, either. He spent the days that followed walking around even more confused than he had been, wondering what to do and pondering what he wanted before considering _her_, what she wanted. He wanted her to want him, and even if she already did, nothing would come from it if she was engaged. Besides, he knew before this startling revelation that she didn't belong with Norrington. It baffled him that they were even still engaged and he subconsciously knew that the reason for this could be rooted in the fact that _no one_ had told her that it was okay to say no. No one had bothered to mention that she didn't need to satisfy the wishes of her fiancé or her father or anyone else. So he sat down and over a three day period, penned the most sincere letter he had yet to write to her. He knew in the writing of it that it could very well be his last, depending on how she reacted to this sincerity, but it had to be said. In his own way, he was telling her the things he could never really vocalize.

_I love you_.

"Take one, ye need it." Jack looked up to see Phil, holding out a cigar with a damp bar rag draped over his shoulder. He stared at it for a few minutes, wondering who he'd swiped it from, before waving his hand in decline.

"That won't help," he said flatly, taking the last sip from his mug and holding it above his mouth to consume even the last drop.

"Talk, then." Phil grabbed a chair and swung it around backwards, leaning against the back of the chair with his elbows. "Come on, Jackie. Out with it. It'll make ye feel better."

"Doubtful," Jack lightly shrugged his shoulders and let out a dramatic sigh. "Talkin' will only rehash a series of most discomforting thoughts and troubling notions."

"Notions ye'd rather keep to yerself then, eh?" Phil chuckled, plucking his flask from his belt and pouring half of the contents into Jack's mug. "Well, mate, ye've known me too long to know that I'll accept that." He paused, locking eyes with the man sitting opposite him. "It's the girl, isn't it?"

"No," Jack said, a bit too quickly. "It certainly is _not_ the girl. It is certainly most certainly an issue not pertaining to any certain _girl_."

"Liar," Phil smirked.

Jack let out another deep breath, looking away, his eyes falling upon the letter in front of him again. He let one finger rest against it. "This letter," he said, tapping the pad of his finger on the parchment's edge, "could bring about the end of any and all correspondence with 'er."

"So I see," Phil nodded understandingly. "I notice ye said _'could.'_"

"What of it?" Jack's eyes fell down to the newly present liquid of an alcoholic nature in his mug. He brought the mug to his nose and sniffed, grinning when the familiar scent of rum filled his nostrils. He took a long sip, downing all of it at once.

"_Could_ does not mean _will_," Phil said.

"Didn't say it did."

Phil laughed, causing Jack to frown. "Since when does the great Captain Jack Sparrow turn away from a risky proposition, eh?"

"Since said risky proposition involves..." Jack trailed off. Finishing that sentence meant admitting something he wasn't entirely ready to admit.

"Fair enough," Phil reasoned. "Your reasoning is your reasoning… m'not sure I'd understand it anyways." Jack furrowed his brow. "Do ye want my advice or not?"

"Not," Jack decided, pointing a finger at him. "Decidedly not."

"Send it," Phil continued anyways. "Think not of the negative result. Think of the positive one, instead."

Jack sat silent, pondering the man's words.

The negative: Lizzie would never speak to him again.

The positive: Lizzie would turn pirate (or, at least, acknowledge the fact that she already was one), would sail off on the Black Pearl as opposed to the Dauntless. He smiled. Despite his fierce protective streak when it came to the Pearl, sharing it with someone (a specific someone, that is) was not at all a bad thought. Perhaps it was worth the risk after all...

Jack looked back to Phil, who was watching him intently. A smirk crossed his lips and he pressed his hand down on the parchment, sliding it across the table. "Send it."

* * *

Elizabeth stared thoughtlessly out her bedroom window, biting her nails as she did so. Her tea-colored eyes were fixed on the road leading up to the mansion, wishing, hoping to see a familiar swagger accompanied by a mass of dark dreadlocks making its way towards her. She knew it was impossible. Jack would never risk capture by striding up to the mansion in broad daylight and she wouldn't really want him to. But she missed him. She hadn't received a single letter from him since their confrontation at Will's shop and she was worried.

She was worried that he'd gotten himself into trouble since the last time they'd spoken and felt incredibly selfish for being even more worried over her relationship with him. She was terrified that she'd alienated him past a point of no return and that the friendship that had come to mean so much to her was over. Yes, Jack meant _so_ much to her. In fact, every minute she'd been sitting around, wondering of his whereabouts, he had seemed to wiggle his way deeper and deeper into her heart. Nearly every available minute she had was spent thinking about Jack, of his witty and unique sense of humor, of his unmatched personality and the adventurous, devil-may-care attitude that she knew covered a soft, sensitive spot deep within him. She'd seen his human side and she found that the more of it she saw, the more and more she fell for him.

As it turned out, not even sleep provided a safe haven from her thoughts of the infamous pirate captain. The initial dream she'd had about him—about his lips getting closer and closer to her own—in the gardens of the Norrington estate was not the last. Almost every night since that nap had featured dreams of Jack… of _her _and Jack, doing things that still made her feel feverish and blush like crazy. On several occasions, in fact, her father had looked at her from across the table and asked her if she was feeling alright. "Darling, you look flushed," he'd said. "Perhaps some rest would do you good?" She had nodded and politely excused herself from the table, thankful for the solace she found when she was alone, even though she knew rest would do her no good.

The overwhelming feelings she was developing for Jack, whether they were rooted in lust or something much deeper, were becoming too much. When coupled with her feelings of guilt over the betrayal she felt for James, she felt like she could just sit down and cry, which she had on several occasions. She had spent many sleepless nights telling herself this was all simply a case of pre-wedding jitters. But there was this tiny voice in the back of her head that kept saying, "_What happens when they become post-wedding jitters?" _

Elizabeth was on the verge of another onslaught of frustrated tears when there was a light knock on the door. She breathed in deeply through her nose, successfully suppressing her edgy emotions and stood upright. "Come in," she said softly.

"It's just me, Miss," Estrella said, stepping into the room. Her arms, which had been previously tucked beneath her back, came out in front of her as she smiled. "I have something for you."

Elizabeth's eyes widened when she noticed the neatly folded piece of parchment in her chamber maid's hand.

"I ran into Will Turner while on errand in town this morning. He said to give you this." She held out the letter, which Elizabeth quickly snatched and ravenously unfolded. Estrella was the only other individual, aside from Will and Rosalind, who knew of her correspondence with Jack. Her eyes instantly ran down the paper, absorbing each of Jack's words as her heart fluttered in her chest.

_Fret not, darling, I forgive you. _Oh, those were so the words she'd been waiting to see! She instantly knew how much easier sleep was going to come to her knowing that Jack had forgiven her. In such a short period of time, he'd come to be her greatest friend and most trusted confidant. She didn't know what she'd do without him.

_Now so long as I am confessing things that I know I am sure to regret confessing later, I feel the need to keep going and address a problem I find most troubling. _Her fluttering heart nearly fluttered right out of her chest when she read that. A confession from Jack Sparrow could prove to be… interesting, to say the least. A small part of her prayed it would be something very specific, words she had imagined him saying on more than one occasion, but an even larger part of her knew that it could not, would not, be such a confession.

As she continued to read, taking in his thoughts on James and their upcoming wedding, her heart slowly started to sink. Up until this point, he'd been so encouraging, telling her at every bump in the road that it was okay. Now, as he confessed this deeply rooted desire for her to end things with him, she began to feel lost, far more so than she was before. She knew that when he told her she didn't love him that he spoke the truth. She didn't love James. But that didn't mean she didn't care about him! Hurting him was another overwhelming notion, especially when he'd been so good to her and treated her so well.

_You don't belong with him. _That she was less sure of. James, and men like James, were what she was used to, pillars in the society she had been raised in. Jack was the exception to that rule, the only man who was different than any other. Maybe she didn't belong with James, but then where _did _she belong? The answer was simple: she felt she didn't belong anywhere. She no longer felt the proper governor's daughter she'd always been, but she wasn't sure she was the freedom loving pirate lass that Jack spoke of either.

As Elizabeth finished the letter, the familiar feeling of warm, salty tears rolled down her cheeks. She wished the freedom that Jack told her to seek was as easy to obtain as he made it seem. Jack had never been under the constraints that she had… breaking free would not be easy, not at all, even if it were a considerable option. She sucked in a shaky breath and turned around when another knock was on the door. This time, the household butler, Charles, was standing in the doorframe.

"Milady, you have a visitor," he informed her politely before bowing and disappearing from the room.

Elizabeth knew it was James before she even entered the drawing room. He rose with a smile on his face to greet her, allowing her the time to give her typical curtsey and allowing him to kiss her hand. When he looked up to her face, he frowned, his bottom lip jutting forward slightly.

"Elizabeth, what is it? Have you been crying?" The concern in his voice only served to make matters worse.

"No," she lied. "I've only just been on the balcony. The wind made my eyes tear."

"Oh, I see." A smile replaced his frown as if nothing had happened at all. "The reason for my visit is quite fortunate, for the both of us," he continued, gathering her hands in his.

"Oh?" She pretended to sound interested.

"I've just gotten a letter from my parents," he continued. He was beaming, which she found oddly comforting. It did not match the gold-flecked smile she longed to see, but it would do.

"Did you?" she asked. "I hope life finds them well."

"Quite, actually. They were delighted with you, Elizabeth, though that is hardly a surprise." He paused and glanced down to the floor. "I knew they would be," he said quietly, his eyes flashing back to hers.

"What else did they have to say?" Elizabeth asked. Knowing that they were so fond of her made everything all the worse. She wondered if their warm acceptance of her would still exist if they knew of her friendship with the most notorious pirate captain in the Spanish Main, as well as her growing opposition to the idea of marrying their son.

"They wish…" He paused, his smile growing. That in itself made her feel awkward. She'd never seen him this happy and it made her uncomfortable. "…they wish for us to marry sooner. Quite sooner, actually."

_They. Wish. For. Us. To. Marry. Sooner. _The words hit her hard and she knew right away this was not good at all. "Wh—what?" she stammered.

"This fall. Before the rainy season," he continued. "I took the liberty of discussing this with your father. He's given his approval and has already sent word to the calligraphers for the date on the invitations to be changed."

_Changed. _Had she not just received such a vital letter from Jack, she would have been furious, furious that she had not been consulted on such a substantial matter regarding her own wedding. But instead she just felt utterly defeated, like the fates were beginning to conspire against her and make such an important decision even more difficult. Instead, she was just sad… more than sad, actually. Depressed.

She managed to feign happiness through James' short visit and escorted him to the door. The minute he was gone, she flew up to her room and sat immediately at her desk.

_My Dear Rosalind,_

_I fear I do not have the composure to write a letter of a quality that you deserve, especially given my hasty departure from London, but I find myself in a situation that requires a friend. You are such a dear friend and I feel that right now you are the only one I can talk to. _

_I understand entirely if the answer is no, but I beg of you to come to Port Royale before the wedding. Before I am married off to James… I need a confidant. My father will gladly arrange for your visit if the answer is yes. _

_I thank you from the bottom of my heart._

_Your Friend Always,_

_Elizabeth Swann_

With a shaky hand and an even shakier strength, the tears continuing to fall once more, she reached for another piece of parchment.

_Dear Jack,_

_I received your letter shortly before receiving some troubling news. _

She didn't know what else to say, how to explain this to him. She knew that with the way he traveled, it was quite possible that this letter might not even reach him before 

she became Mrs. James Norrington. The thought was terrifying. She steadied her grip on the quill in her hand and continued to write.

_I don't know what to do._

_Please come? At night, when it is safe? I need you._

_Elizabeth Swann_

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for this chapter!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you all next time!


	14. Decision Time

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 11—Decision Time**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello all! Sorry for the lack of an update this weekend (I had this chapter written and meant to get it up), but this was the first weekend in a long time when I didn't have a huge test to study or a paper to write, so I took some time for myself.

Anyways, I'm really proud of this chapter and it is quite monumental to the story, so I hope you all enjoy it! I'm going out of town on Wednesday, so this will be the last update until (at least) Sunday, October 5, though more realistically the following Monday.

Thanks so much for the continued reviews! They're the reason why I keep writing. :D Now, on with Chapter 11!

* * *

The _H.M.S. Swallow _was not the largest ship to arrive in Port Royale's harbor, nor the grandest, but for a last minute journey from London to the warm, sunny Caribbean, it would suffice just fine. Dwarfed by the Dauntless and even a bit smaller than the Interceptor had been, her small, white sails would have gone mostly unnoticed by anyone who wasn't waiting for them to appear. However, Elizabeth _had _been waiting for them, and upon catching her first glance of the undersized vessel, she nearly wept with relief.

Elizabeth had gotten Rosalind's letter only a week or so earlier, lending her a much needed sense of reprieve at her friend's acceptance of her invitation to visit her. Until receiving Jack's prior to begging for Rosalind's companionship, _he _had been her biggest confidant, the one person who didn't make her feel like she was completely alone. But now, with all these developing feelings that would have confused even the most able-minded woman, she needed to turn elsewhere. With her impending nuptials to James (which were _exactly _a week away now) and the definitive butterflies that fluttered around in her stomach at even the slightest thought of Jack, she needed someone to vent to before her head (or quite possibly, her heart) exploded.

She kept glancing nervously over her shoulder at James and her father, who insisted on accompanying her to the docks to greet Rosalind, the first of many wedding guests to arrive in the days to come. Given what had happened the last time Elizabeth had been on the docks, when she was seen in her soggy, transparent clothing by a _pirate_, and then held captive by said-pirate, going to receive Rosalind by herself was out of the question. She didn't bother to argue… she didn't have the will for it anymore. With each passing day and with each discussion of the wedding and the future, she felt more and more powerless to fight it.

Elizabeth waited impatiently with baited breath as the ship came to the docks, unloading a slew of cargo before the few passengers started to trickle off one by one. As if she hadn't waited long enough, Rosalind was the last to depart, causing a long lost smile to flash onto Elizabeth's face. A happy smile crossed Rosalind's face as well and both of them ran (as best they could in dresses and corsets) to embrace each other.

"Oh, I thought you would never get here!" Elizabeth cried, her voice wavering, the threat of tears imminent.

"Nor did I," Rosalind replied, offering the most reassuring smile she could muster. "Your father did not question my premature visit?"

"Not at all, thank heavens," Elizabeth said quietly, casting another glance over her shoulder at her father and James, who had started to make the walk down the long dock. She turned back to Rosalind, the tears now brimming in the corners of her eyes.

"What's this?" Rosalind asked, concerned, placing her hands on either side of Elizabeth's face. "I sense this has more to do with you being simply happy to see me."

Elizabeth drew in several deep breaths, willing her voice not to crack, before opening her mouth to speak. Before she could, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see that James and her father had reached them already. Her father instantly noticed the tears in his daughter's eyes and his face scrunched up in concern.

"Just happy to see me, is all," Rosalind said quickly, wrapping a comforting arm around Elizabeth's waist.

"Is that so?" James asked, his eyebrows knotted. Elizabeth nodded, hoping her uncertainty was well enough concealed. "Well." With all the formality that Elizabeth had expected from her fiancé, he and her father greeted Rosalind before the four of them headed back down towards the waiting carriage.

"You'll tell me everything once we're alone?" Rosalind whispered lightly into Elizabeth's ear as they walked.

"Everything," Elizabeth meekly whispered back. _"Everything." _

* * *

Elizabeth paced around her room, wringing her hands together and chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Rosalind was sitting on Elizabeth's bed, leaning back against the pillows, with Jack's letter clutched firmly in her hand. Elizabeth watched her, her stomach churning in a most uncomfortable way, as she read. Finally, Rosalind took in a deep breath through her nose before lowering the parchment from her face. She looked up to Elizabeth with steady, serious eyes.

"Well?" Elizabeth stopped her pacing, placing both hands flat against her stomach in an ill-fated attempt to calm her nerves. A small smile curled on Rosalind's lips.

"He's very well-spoken for a pirate," Rosalind said softly.

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes falling to the floor. "He is," she agreed. "His writing tells me he has an education, though I know so little about who he was before he became _Captain _Jack Sparrow."

"And you wish to know more?" Rosalind asked, her voice teasing.

Elizabeth nodded, biting down on her lip so hard she felt the copper taste of blood in her mouth. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. "God help me, I do. So much more…"

"He's right, you know," Rosalind said. "He's absolutely right." She picked up the letter, her dark eyes scanning the pages several times before continuing.

"You think I should stop this." It was a statement, not a question.

"Elizabeth, you're so unhappy," Rosalind said, sitting up. "It's so evident! Something inside you is starting to die and I fear that you'll never get it back unless you call this off right now." Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Rosalind stopped her. "Don't think about the _wedding_. Don't you dare use all the preparations and the guests and the cost as an excuse to go through with this." She stood from the bed and walked to Elizabeth, taking her hands in her own. "You have to think about what comes next. Do you really want to spend your life with a man you don't love?"

"It's not that I don't love him," Elizabeth said, her voice small and far away. "I just don't love him the way I'm expected to… James is not a bad man, he will not make a bad husband—"

"But do you really want _him_ to be your husband?" Rosalind paused, sighing. "Go to your father, Elizabeth. You have to tell him how you feel."

"I can't!" Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. "He can't know about _any_ of this! I love my father, but if he finds out about Jack—"

"He does not need to know a thing about Jack," Rosalind assured her. "Just tell him you don't wish to marry James. He _loves _you, Elizabeth, he'll understand. Do you not think he wants _only_ your happiness?"

"But he's so fond of James…"

"Elizabeth, listen to me," Rosalind said firmly. She squeezed Elizabeth's hands. "You cannot believe that your father would want you to marry him if he knew you were so unhappy." A silence fell between them and Elizabeth looked away. When she looked back to Rosalind, she was smiling. "You know I'm right."

"Come in."

Not for the first time in her life, Elizabeth wished that the invention of the corset had never occurred. An uncomfortable situation was about to be made all the more uncomfortable no thanks to the bloody, stupid thing. But then again… she held back a small smile as she pushed open the heavy, wooden door to her father's study. Without her bloody stupid corset she would have never met _him_.

* * *

"Ah, Elizabeth," her father looked up from his desk when he saw her. He rose to his feet when she entered the room. "Not that you need an excuse to visit me, but is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes, there is…" Elizabeth took in another deep breath, ready to confess everything when she heard a noise. Her eyes darted to the large arm chair that sat before his desk and she nearly fainted when James stood up. She should have known… she couldn't help but wonder sometimes that if her fiancé and her father would be better off marrying each other.

"Elizabeth," he smiled.

"James…" She was speechless for a few minutes, her heart pounding in her chest before she remembered formality. She dipped her head slightly as she curtseyed.

"Well, go on, darling, what is it?"

Elizabeth was frozen, her plan to tell her father about her insecurities long gone. "I… I…" she stammered for a few minutes while she thought of something to say. "I came to ask your permission for the use of the carriage." She clasped her hands behind her back, her head falling down, avoiding all eye-contact. Who was she? Who had she become? The assertive, opinionated, strong-willed girl she used to be was so far away now, so lost. "I'd like to show Rosalind the town."

"Of course," her father smiled and nodded. "I see no trouble with that."

She uttered a quick "thank you" and without another word, fled from the room, shutting the door behind her. Once she was in the hallway and out of sight, she leaned against the fall, her shoulders falling forward as she covered her face with her hands and silently wept.

* * *

Jack smirked to himself, quite pleased on the very successful raid he had conducted as he steered the Black Pearl out of Nassau's main harbor. It was occasions like this one that reminded him as to why he was a pirate. The warm sea air was in his face, the smooth feeling of the ship's wooden wheel safely in his grasp and a brand new case of rum (the obtainment of which was highly suspect, though left him quite proud of the men who had snatched it up) was waiting for him in the cargo hold. Life was good.

"Uh… Capt'n?" Jack's happy little thought bubble burst when he heard Gibbs' uncertain, nervous voice behind him.

"Aye, Mr. Gibbs?"

"I have somethin' for ye, sir," Gibbs quietly announced. Jack's pulse shot way up when he considered what the "something" might be… or at least, what he hoped it might be. Gibbs let out a nervous chuckle when he pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his vest pocket, handing it to Jack. Jack eyed him suspiciously before snatching the letter and quickly unfolding it. He motioned for Gibbs to take over the wheel for him.

As he read Lizzie's words… her sad, desperate words… his eyes widened. This was not good… this was most certainly not good. "How long have you had this?" he asked, his eyes shooting back up to Gibbs.

"I picked it up in St. Lucia…" Gibbs chuckled again. "I forgot to give it to ye…"

Jack gritted his teeth. Their stop in St. Lucia was over a week ago. "Port Royale. Now."

Without another word, he was off to the cargo hold. He had every intention of putting aside one of the bottles for his Lizzie. From the apprehension he could practically hear in her voice, he knew she'd be needing it.

* * *

The days flew by, each one bringing more and more dread to the cluttered thoughts and emotions swirling through Elizabeth's mind. She stood on her balcony, her hands gripping the iron railing as her sad eyes stared out to the harbor. Ships seemed to be arriving by the minute, though she knew her agitation was likely causing her to imagine things. Every night, more and more guests from England would arrive, proving much to Elizabeth's dismay that her wedding was seen as nothing more than a spectacle, the social gathering of the year.

Elizabeth found herself spending more and more time on her balcony, her own little safe haven from the world that seemed to be so obsessed with her nuptials. There were alternative motives to this, however. The first, and most important, was the hope of seeing a set of black sails amongst all the white in the harbor. Tomorrow morning, she was set to be married, and there was still no sign of Jack, nor any letter from him. It seemed that her biggest fear was about to come true—she was set to marry James before giving Jack the goodbye she so wanted to give him.

The second reason for her extended time out on the small little balcony was for the sheer fact of avoiding her room. Sitting in the corner, directly in front of her changing screen, was her wedding dress. Every time she looked at it, she felt a dull throb in the bottom of her chest. She genuinely believed that the dress looked better on the mannequin than it would ever look on her. At least the mannequin had no objections to wearing it.

Elizabeth's head whirled around when she heard a quick knock on the door. With a great sense of dissatisfaction surging through her, she stepped back inside. Before she would welcome her visitor, however, the door swung open and Rosalind stepped inside, completely out of breath.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I… just…" Rosalind paused and took a deep breath. "I just got this from Estrella." She held out her hand and it was then that Elizabeth took notice of the folded parchment clutched there. "I ran straight to give it to you, she says it's from Will Turner."

Unable to speak, Elizabeth practically lunged forward and took the letter from Rosalind's hand. Nearly tearing the fragile parchment with the urgency in which she unfolded it, she began to read. Sure enough, it was in Will's hand.

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_I'll be brief, for I know how anxious you have been to receive this news. He's here. Come to my shop when you can. Mr. Brown will be absent for the day, presenting new armory to the soldiers attending the wedding tomorrow. It is safe here._

_Sincerely,_

_Will_

Elizabeth covered her mouth as a happy cry threatened to escape from the back of her throat. Will's discretion, though appreciated, was unnecessary. She knew who _"he_" was.

* * *

"Where is she?"

"I'm sure she's on her way," Will said, his voice and eyes amused as he watched Jack flutter around the shop. He never thought he'd see this side of the calm, collected, always calculated Captain Jack Sparrow. He leaned against a wooden support bean as he watched the older man cautiously peer out the window before pacing several feet backwards, then repeating the step all over again.

"Yer sure she got it?"

"I'm sure," Will promised. "Be patient."

"I may be many things, William, but _patient_ is not one of them," Jack practically hissed, his hands clenching into fists.

"I can see that," Will chuckled. Jack shot him an angry glance, ready to retort with a sarcastic quip or witty comeback when the door swung open. His dark eyes immediately shot to where she stood and his stomach dropped. He stood absolutely still, his mind a flurry of thoughts… no person had ever warranted such a reaction from him before.

"Jack…" His name escaped Elizabeth's lips in a frazzled whisper and in an instant, she had flown down the front steps and flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. "I hadn't heard from you, I was so worried!" she cried. Jack frowned when he felt her tremble in his arms and frowned even more so when he felt something wet dribble down his shoulder. He pulled back to look at her, quickly brushing her tears away. A crying Lizzie was one of few things he could not stomach.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he said softly. "I seem to have a forgetful first mate." He paused, grinning when a small smile flashed across her lips, however briefly. "I came as soon as I could. What's happened?" he asked, his voice firm. "Tell me, 'Lizabeth."

"I'm getting married," she told him, her voice wavering as she spoke.

"I know this," he nodded, smiling at her.

"No," she shook her head, placing her hands on the flat part of his chest. "I'm getting married… tomorrow."

_Tomorrow._ _Not good. No, no… not good._

"I see," he bit the inside of his cheek as he spoke, making his voice sound muffled. He had to think fast. He had very little time to convince her to change her mind, but when he spoke, what came out and his tone of voice were not at all what he wanted. "Me offer still stands, just so ye know. The Pearl's plenty big enough, luv."

"Do it, Elizabeth!" Rosalind said suddenly. Until that time, Elizabeth had forgotten that there was anyone else in the world (let alone, the room) other than her and Jack. "Sorry," her dark eyes fluttered to the ground, suddenly embarrassed by her little outburst.

Elizabeth's eyes darted to Will, who lightly shrugged his shoulders and offered her a small smile. "The choice is yours," he said quietly.

"Lizzie?" Elizabeth looked back to Jack, her eyes shining brightly with tears. "Just answer yerself this, darlin'… when was the last time you did what _you_ wanted to do?" She paused, taking the thought in. When _was_ the last time she made a decision that didn't follow what her father wanted, or what James wanted, or what society told her to do? She couldn't remember. It was like the Elizabeth she used to be sailed away with Jack all those months ago, after his escape, leaving an unsure, frightened little girl in her place. She hated that… she hated that her independence had become so far removed from her. What had happened to her dreams of the sea life? The salty ocean spray in her face, the sound of gulls overhead and nothing but blue waters and clear skies for miles upon miles… had those dreams died with her spirit?

"Jack, I…" _Say it, _a voice in her head told her. _Just say it. Say you'll go with him. _She recognized that voice. It was _her _voice. This was what she wanted. She smiled and was about to gratefully accept his offer when the sound of boots on the cobblestone just outside the shop broke the silence for her. She whirled her head around and Jack's eyes darted towards the door, as did Rosalind's and Will's.

"It's James!" Rosalind whispered loudly, peering out the window. "You have to hide, both of you!"

"What?" Elizabeth whispered back, her eyes growing frantic. Why both of them?

"Quick, this way," Will lightly grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and motioned for Jack to follow, guiding both of them towards the back of the shop to a rickety looking storage closet. Before Elizabeth could object, Will was pushing her inside and Jack was assisting him by tugging on her hand. Not another word was spoken and the door shut behind her, leaving her pressed up against Jack's chest in the cramped, dark space.

"Why am I here?" she muttered under her breath, shifting uncomfortably, feeling completely awkward given her current position.

"Well…" Jack whispered back, his eyes darting away from hers. "Should yer answer to my offer be a positive one, yer friend out there probably figured that the little anyone sees of you, the better." He looked back at her and their eyes locked. She could feel the heat from his body and wondered if he was always this warm, and that if he was, if that was a good thing. In the few dances that she and James had shared while in London, she remembered his hands being cold, his clothing stiff against hers. Jack's jacket and shirt felt worn in the best possible way and they smelled so good… so much like _him_.

"Mr. Turner, good day." Elizabeth tore her eyes from his face and sucked in a sharp breath when she heard her fiancé's voice. "Miss Avery?" The surprise in his voice at seeing Rosalind was quite apparent and Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut.

"Breathe, Lizzie," she heard Jack whisper lightly. "You'll faint otherwise an' blow our cover." She looked at him to find him smirking. "Can't have that, can we?"

"Commodore Norrington," Elizabeth turned her head to the side when she heard Rosalind greet him.

"Commodore," Will greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Elizabeth," he said frankly, the tone in his voice becoming more stern, if not irritated. "I know she spends quite a bit of time here. Have you seen her?"

"Not since this morning," Elizabeth heard Rosalind, impressed by her ability to lie. _What a fine pirate she'd make…_ "I came here to look for her myself. Mr. Turner was just telling me he had yet to see her, either."

"I understand." The sound of James' footsteps heading for the door made Elizabeth let go a small, quite sigh of relief, yet she found herself angry with him for being so short with people she considered to be her closest friends. "You'll direct her back to the mansion if you see her?"

"Of course," Will replied.

"Miss Avery? May I accompany you home?"

"I can find my own way. But thank you for your kind offer," Rosalind assured him. No further goodbyes could be heard over the slam of the door, James' footsteps quieting as they disappeared back down the alleyway.

"Well?" Elizabeth looked back to Jack. "What'll it be, Lizzie?" His hands had crept up her arms, holding onto her gently. She briefly closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to just melt against him and stay there forever. It made her feel truly peaceful for the first time since she'd been engaged.

"Yes." She whispered, opening her eyes. "Yes."

* * *

**A/N: **Yay! Jack'n'Lizzie are one step closer to the inevitable! Since it will be awhile before I update next, I'll give you all a few spoilers. The next chapter will involve Lizzie sneaking out of Port Royale with Jack. Once on the Pearl, she'll write two letters to James and her father apologizing for her abrupt departure, all the while being quite careful to not involve Jack. However, those letters could end up being disastrous for him anyways. We'll see a lot more emotion from Elizabeth as she deals with the guilt of abandoning the life she once knew.

There won't be any more letters between Jack and Elizabeth (seeing as how they're living on the same ship now), except for a few sporadic ones in the chapters to come. I have a very good idea as to where I want to take this story and plan on it being _very _long, so look forward to lots of Sparrabeth to come!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you all at Chapter 12!


	15. Adjustments

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 12—Adjustments**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! I'm back from vacation and not a minute too soon. Don't get me wrong… I love Disneyland and I love kids, but the peace and quiet is a welcome relief from all the noise.

I've been thinking about where to go with this story for the past few days, and now that I have a concrete idea as to what I'm going to do, look forward to (hopefully) more frequent updates! Your feedback has been so wonderful and reassuring; I really look forward to writing new chapters.

Thanks again for all the great reviews!

* * *

"Well?" Elizabeth looked back to Jack. "What'll it be, Lizzie?" His hands had crept up her arms, holding onto her gently. She briefly closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to just melt against him and stay there forever. It made her feel truly peaceful for the first time since she'd been engaged.

"Yes." She whispered, opening her eyes. "Yes."

"Yes?" Elizabeth could see a glint of gold with the thin rays of light that shone through the cracks in the closet door. Jack was grinning at her, both eyebrows cocked. "Yer sure?" She bit her lip and nodded nervously before allowing herself to smile back at him. The way he was smiling at her and the pleased, content look in his eyes made her wish she had the courage to lean into him and kiss him in the way she had only dreamed of. And maybe she would have, or at least wrapped herself further around him, had the door not slowly creaked open.

"You can come out now," Will said quietly, looking over his shoulder towards the front of the shop. "It's safe, he's gone."

"William," Jack started to speak, taking Elizabeth by the hand and leading her out, helping her to avoid a tangle of cobwebs in the crook of the doorframe. "Would it be safe for one to assume that you'd happen to have a spare set of clothing in this establishment?" Will arched an eyebrow at him suspiciously. "For her," Jack promised, holding his hands up.

"He's right," Rosalind said, picking up on Jack's inquiry. "This place is full of wedding guests expecting to see the bride. But no one will pay her any mind if she's disguised in breeches and a hat."

Will agreed, nodding as he led Elizabeth towards the stairs that led to his flat above the very back part of the shop. He guided her inside and spoke softly to her, telling her he was happy for her, but she could tell by the sad look in his eyes that her unspoken, yet obvious, decision had caused him pain. She nearly cried when he left her, giving her the privacy to change. She stood there for several minutes, his clothes grasped in her hands, wondering if she'd made the right decision… was she being completely selfish? Was her choice to leave with Jack going to cause more pain to her father and James and Will than she ever intended? She sighed, struggling to untie the laces at the back of her dress. She didn't know which choice would make her stronger… staying with a man she loved but was not _in _love with, or leaving to follow her own dreams. Whichever was the better of the two, she'd have to ponder over it later, for no matter how conflicting the choice was, she could not make herself stay. A force was pulling her away, a force that she actually _wanted_ to pull her away… and that force's name was Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth stared at herself in the mirror for several long minutes before tying her hair out of her face, watching herself with wide eyes as the Elizabeth Swann she'd been raised to be slowly faded away and the Elizabeth Swann she'd always wanted to be took her place. She placed Will's tricorn hat on her head, tucking her hair underneath. She reached down to the floor, dirtying her hands and smudging her cheeks to better hide herself from anyone who might recognize her.

_Not that you need reminding, but you're a swan, Lizzie. Fly free. _Jack's words echoed through her head as she turned towards the door, taking one final glance at the crumpled dress in the corner of the room.

* * *

Jack fidgeted with the chicken foot that dangled from his belt, his fingers roving over the foot's coarse, leathery skin. His dark eyes darted towards the back of Will's shop before darting towards the front door, convinced that the entire Royal Navy was on their way to capture him and Elizabeth both, before the adventure had yet to begin.

What had happened to him? A year ago, he would have sat patiently, not a care or clouded thought in the world. But now, things were so, so different. Before, he didn't have a reason to worry. There was nothing precious enough to wrinkle his brow. It was astounding to him how one person, this single being, had made him feel completely untouchable and terrified of the worst possible scenario all at the same time. He'd become paranoid, but a _good_ kind of paranoid, if there was such a thing. He was the kind of paranoid, stricken fool he had always tried so hard not to be… and now that he was one, he found that he didn't mind it so much. He smirked to himself, releasing his grip on the chicken foot. How things had changed…

He looked up when he heard the strained creaking of the shop's narrow stairwell and took a few hesitant steps forward. A petite figure came from the shadows and stepped into the sunlight pouring through the open windows. Jack smiled. Where Elizabeth had gone, Lizzie had emerged, and she was still just as breathtakingly beautiful as she'd always been.

"My, my," he grinned, finally finding his voice. "What a fine lad you make, Lizzie darlin'."

She smirked. "I hope you don't believe I will become one just because I'm joining your crew, Captain Sparrow." He chuckled and her smirk turned into a smile before her big, brown eyes fluttered down towards her feet. "The shoes are too big," she added quietly.

"Fret not," Jack said, stepping towards her. He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up so that their eyes met. "Our first stop is Tortuga… I'll be sure to fetch you a pair of proper boots there." Elizabeth smiled, taking note of his exact words… She wondered about the unfortunate soul to awake from their drunken stupor to find their shoes missing. She didn't mind it, though. She knew what she was getting herself into and she was ready for it.

"So I don't look completely ridiculous?" she asked, seeking more of his reassurance.

Jack nodded. He wanted to tell her that she'd look marvelous in anything (particularly _nothing_), but the strong desire to avoid being slapped and ruining the moment overrode it and he kept his mouth shut.

"You'll write, won't you?" Elizabeth looked over Jack's shoulder to see Rosalind, standing just in front of Will. "When it's safe, I mean. I just want to know you're alright."

"You'll know," Elizabeth promised, kissing her friend on the cheek before hugging her tightly. When she pulled back, Rosalind's chin was quivering slightly, but she sucked in a deep breath through her nose and nodded her head, as if assuring herself that all would be well.

Elizabeth turned towards Will, feeling she had so much to say yet not knowing how to phrase any of it in a way that would adequately describe it. "Thank you, for everything," she whispered, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his neck, inhaling his scent in a vain attempt to preserve the moment forever. When she allowed herself to let go, her throat felt tight, and despite her best efforts, her voice cracked when she spoke. "You'll look out for my father, won't you?"

"Of course," Will nodded, squeezing her hands gently.

A sudden surge of panic shot through her and her eyes darted from Will, to Jack, to Rosalind and then back to Will again. "They'll know you helped me," she said, though she was unsure of the "_they" _she referred to.

"No," Rosalind said quickly, stepping towards her. "They'll _assume _we helped you." She winked and flashed Elizabeth a grin, and once again Elizabeth thought of the fine pirate her friend would make. "They won't be able to prove a thing. We'll be fine, don't worry."

"Well." Elizabeth heard Jack clear his throat and the dull thudding of his boots against the floor as he walked to her. A strange sense of calm washed over her when she felt his strong hand lightly place itself on her shoulder. "I hate to cut this short, darlin', but we really should be goin' or else I fear there won't be a ship to flee to." She looked up at him to see his eyes smiling at her. "Impatient crew an' all."

Elizabeth's nose burned and tears threatened to fall, but she kept her breathing steady, begging the Gods to help her keep her emotions subdued. She said her final goodbyes and disallowed herself to look back as Jack whisked her away towards a future she'd always wanted.

* * *

The sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon as the Black Pearl sailed towards the Azores islands, her black sails fluttering in the faint breeze yielded from the orange and pink sky.

The original plan had been to stop in Tortuga, but Elizabeth had fearfully pointed out that the pirate port was likely the first place James would go to look for them (should he go to look for them at all), and a change in plans had been carefully constructed. Jack deemed that it was in the crew's best interest to get as far as they could with the supplies they had. From there, the Pearl would head towards Tripoli, where Jack promised the crew a good deal of profit for the unexpected stop in Port Royale. The chosen route would take a little longer than the desired route, but it would be safer in the long run, keeping them out of the main path from ships like the Dauntless.

The first few hours on the ship had been busy ones and Elizabeth was only too happy to be thrust into the activity, for it was an easy way for her to keep her mind off of all that she was escaping from. Having spent a great deal of time on ships during her childhood, she was able to hold her own with the Pearl's crew, with the assistance of a few friendly faces like Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, and of course, Jack. She'd been hoping to find a bit of solace in the female companionship of Anamaria, but she quickly learned that Ana didn't stay in one place for long and that she'd jumped ship the last time the Pearl had docked in Nassau.

After a long day of hard work, Elizabeth stood by herself in the cool confines of Jack's cabin, letting the breeze waft through her hair from the open window. Her feet throbbed from standing on them all day and her hands burned with blisters. Her cheeks felt hot and she was sure her skin had been burned beneath the glaring rays of the sun. Her lips were dry and cracked and her body was covered with dirt and sweat. She knew that with time, her skin would become calloused and she'd adjust to the work, but for now she'd have to live with the pain.

The pain that she felt, however, was not limited to the physical toll of a hard day's work. With many chores accomplished, she found herself with some free time. With this free time came plaguing thoughts of James and her father… the guilt she felt was conflicted with an incredible sense of belonging and freedom. She just wished she'd had other options, other ways of finding said freedom. She wondered how many hearts she'd broken, how much pain she must have caused, the embarrassment for his family and hers. News of her absence had no doubt already swept through Port Royale. She worried about Will and Rosalind, about the grueling questions they'd be challenged with, for it was clearly no secret that the two of them were the last to see her.

Everything was so muddled, so confusing. She felt guilty, yet justified. She felt imprisoned, yet free. As she mindlessly stared out the window, she wondered if the two halves of herself would ever be able to coexist, or if she'd spend the rest of her life (however long it might be, now that she had declared herself a pirate) questioning her decision. She felt overwhelmed and she placed her tired, sore hands over her face, her blisters burning even more at the contact with her salty tears. But she didn't care. She just let herself cry.

Elizabeth's mind felt like a whirlwind of thoughts and she wasn't sure how much time had passed… seconds, minutes… when she felt the warmth of another body moving up behind her. Over the waves from outside the open window, she hadn't heard anyone come in and her body stiffened as she sniffled several times, brushing her dirty fingers against her dirty cheeks. She cleared her throat and turned around, looking up at Jack through tear-clouded eyes. His own eyes stared down at her and he sighed before speaking.

"Now, Lizzie," he said softly, "ye don't have to do that on account of me." He paused, brushing a loose strand of tawny blonde hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. His thumb quickly brushed over her cheek before he continued, his voice falling even lower, quieter. "Ye don't always have to be so brave, ye know."

"Jack… I…" Elizabeth was about to blame her tears on exhaustion or dust or the breeze, but as she looked up at him, she knew it would do her no good. There was no hiding from him, there was no use in keeping any secrets. In front of Jack, she was completely exposed, and she had yet to determine if that notion was frightening or comforting or perhaps a little of both.

He said nothing and she held her breath when he placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him. Her head fell against his chest and at the sound of his steady breathing and even steadier heartbeat, she squeezed her eyes shut, stray tears trickling down her cheeks and soaking into the fabric of his shirt and jacket. Her first instinct told her to pull away, but at this point in time, her instincts only confused her, so she chose to ignore it. Instead, she turned into him, grabbing onto the collar of his jacket and holding herself against him as she cried. He said nothing… no words of comfort that both of them knew would do no good. Being uniquely Jack, he chose to comfort her with his hands—one cradled the back of her head, long, elegant fingers weaved through her hair, while the other ran up and down her back as she shook in his arms.

Time once again escaped her, but when she finally did pull away from him, the sun had completely disappeared, the first stars beginning to reflect against the glassy, ocean waters. Elizabeth swallowed several times as Jack placed both hands on either side of her face, brushing away the remaining traces of moisture with his thumbs.

"Ye know, Lizzie," he finally said, breaking the silence. "I really hate it when you do that," he continued, his face scrunching up.

Elizabeth laughed, feeling a bit of the weight on her shoulders melting away. "Alright," she sniffled, "I promise to try not to."

"Good," he said quietly, leaning forward and brushing a kiss against the top of her forehead. She was surprised by the softness of his lips and found her eyes fluttering closed the moment they came into contact with her skin. "Elizabeth?" She looked up at him, able to tell by the tone of his voice that he was completely serious now. "Say the word, luv, an' I'll take you back."

She found herself speechless, though she wasn't sure exactly why. "You're so good to me, Jack," she finally said.

"Well," he sighed, "don't go tellin' anyone that." He smirked and twirled his mustache. "I've a reputation to uphold, ye know. An' don't go tellin' anyone that I let you get away with _not_ referring to me as _Captain_ Jack, alright?" He took a deep breath. "Otherwise no one'll do it anymore."

She laughed again. "I promise."

"Seriously, though," he continued, holding his finger up. "At any trace of regret, you tell me. I'll never hear the end of it, but it'll be worth it if goin' back to Port Royale is what you really want."

"Oh, Jack…" Elizabeth locked eyes with him and swore a part of her was melting away into the floor, while the other part was fluttering out the window in the breeze. She cautiously took one of his hands in her own and, her heart beating wildly in her stomach, kissed the tops of his knuckles. "I cannot tell you what I want," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. "But what I _don't _want, I'm quite certain of. I do not wish to return to Port Royale."

"Alright, then," he said, his voice quiet. He took a step backwards. "I'll have someone fetch you when supper's ready." He paused. "I'm sure it's not what yer accustomed to, but it's the finest fare a pirate ship can offer, I assure you."

Her eyes grew wide and she felt a slight sense of panic when he started to leave, so she spat out the first concern that popped into her head… anything to get him to stay, if only for a few minutes longer. "Jack?"

"Aye, luv?" He turned at the door, his hand gripped on the handle.

"Where… where am I…" Elizabeth puffed out a breath of frustration before gathering her thoughts and starting again. "Am I to sleep with the crew?"

Jack laughed and she immediately felt embarrassed, hoping her cheeks weren't as read as she felt they must have been. "I should hope not," he said, stepping back a few paces towards her. Noting the mortification on her face, he cleared his throat and smiled warmly at her. "No, Lizzie. You'll sleep in 'ere, if that's alright with you."

"In here?" Her throat felt tight as she considered the thought… sleeping in Jack's bed… "Jack…" Elizabeth's eyes fell away from his, holding a steady gaze on the floor. "My intention was never to drive you from your own cabin." She looked up to find Jack staring at her, a smirk on his face.

"An' who's to say you've driven me from me own cabin?" he asked. "I'll be settin' up a hammock…" he tilted his head to the side. "…over there. We've a full crew, there isn't room below decks, even if I wanted ye down there or had intentions of sleepin' down there meself." He shrugged, continuing. "An' you'll have all the privacy ye need, darlin'. I've arranged to have the first night shift, I won't even be around." She nodded as she chewed her lip, watching him. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to do that (she wanted to tell him that she _wanted_ him there), but found herself not telling him anything.

"Should I be wary of the crew?" Elizabeth asked, hoping her voice wasn't as timid as it sounded in her head.

Jack pondered for a moment, wondering if she wanted him to be comforting or honest. He decided that for her safety, it was better if he were honest, even if it frightened her a little. He shrugged before speaking. "Probably, Lizzie." When their eyes met, she looked afraid, and he wondered if he had made the wrong choice. "I trust your judgment, luv, as well as your strength and ability to defend yourself properly. An' I trust most of the crew. However, the operative word in that statement is _most_." He paused, sighing. "Until ye've been here awhile an' proven to them, as you already have to me, that yer not the average damsel in distress… you'll do just fine to sleep in here."

Elizabeth smiled briefly. "What about Anamaria? How did she fend for herself on a ship full of men?"

Jack laughed. "Ana managed because she was braver and stronger and bolder than all of 'em put together," he explained. "She once nearly castrated a mate who had the misfortune of ogling at her chest for a moment too long." He paused, chuckling as he looked up at Elizabeth. "Though something tells me that's not entirely your style, eh, Lizzie?"

"Decidedly not," Elizabeth grimaced, crossing her arms. A brief, yet comfortable silence fell between the two.

"Perhaps your mind would be appeased to write a few letters to those ye left behind, eh, luv?" Jack asked, heading towards his desk. Elizabeth watched him with hopeful eyes.

"Could I?" she asked. "That is… you have the means of which to write them?"

"Of course I do," he said, chuckling. "What did you think _your_ letters were written on? Vellum?" She watched him as he pulled out a short stack of clean, neat parchment before plopping an ink well over them. He beckoned her over to the desk, holding the chair out for her as she sat and scooting it in once she'd gotten comfortably situated. He said nothing more as he headed for the doorway. "You'll call for me should you need anything?" He asked, leaning against the open frame.

Elizabeth nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Jack." He nodded and smiled his own response before disappearing, closing the door behind him. Elizabeth watched the door for several minutes, feeling only slightly better than she did before he had arrived. After several more moments passed, her eyes fell down to the parchment in front of her. She sighed.

How was she supposed to write a letter with words she could hardly formulate in her own thoughts?

* * *

**A/N: **Well, guys, that's it for this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it! The next chapter will be a little chapterette like we've seen before, with one letter to Will and Rosalind, one letter to Elizabeth's father, and one letter to James.

Thanks for reading, now go review!


	16. Three Letters

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN—Three Letters**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews, they mean so much to me!

As I said at the end of the last chapter, this is another little chapterette featuring three letters from Elizabeth—one to Will and Rosalind, one to her father, and one to James.

Thanks again for the reviews! I save each and every one of them!

* * *

_My Dear Father,_

_By the time you reach this letter, the realization of my departure will have already resonated with you. I have struggled for hours to adequately form the words I wish to say with no luck. I cannot express the depth of my sorrow at leaving in the manner that I did, for I know how much pain it must have caused and the shame and embarrassment I have brought to our family's good name. I am so sorry, father, and while I do not expect your immediate forgiveness, I hope you still consider me your daughter._

_I will forever regret not being able to find the strength and the courage to discuss my feelings with you before I left. I assume you understand my reason for leaving, though I do not expect you to accept it. I found myself terrified of my future with James, a good man who I care deeply about but do not love the way I am supposed to… I am not in love with James and I cannot fathom the thought of going through with a marriage that I do not support. He is a fine man and he will make a fine husband, but he shall not be mine. I hope you can understand that I was deeply unhappy at the notion of marrying him, despite my friendly feelings towards him, and your fondness of him made telling you how I really felt all the more difficult._

_Father, I never had the slightest desire to upset you. I have always strived to make you happy, to make you proud… but my heart has lead me down a different path. Being engaged to James these past several months have made me feel as if I was constantly wearing a corset. I felt I could not breath, or as if I was drowning. I felt suffocated, smothered and absolutely powerless. I wish I was able to tell you this in person… I wish I had been brave enough to come forward and end the engagement the way I should have, but I was afraid. I still am._

_Do not fear for me, for I am in good hands. I am with a dear friend who is looking after me the way you would want him to. He is respectful, well-mannered and more generous than any individual I have ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with, and I know you would be glad to know how happy I am to have his friendship. You are a smart man, father, and I know you likely have a decent idea as to who this friend is. However, I beg you not to pursue us. This particular friend would do nothing to cause me harm… in fact, I am rather inclined to believe that he would do absolutely everything in his power to protect me. I understand how wary this must make you, but do not worry. _

_I am safe and I am happy. I cannot tell you where I am headed for I do not know for certain. With the current company I am keeping, plans are likely to change at a moment's notice. I assure you, however, that my friend is watching over me always. He has even allowed me the use of his quarters so I will be more comfortable. He is a true gentleman, even if it takes a second (or even third) look to see it. I beg of you, do not blame him. The decision was mine and mine alone to make. I must also ask you not to blame Will or Rosalind… they are my closest friends and only did what they could to ensure my happiness. If anything, they gave me freedom. It is not their fault. If there is someone to blame, it is me. _

_Again, I must express my deepest sorrow at leaving Port Royale in the way I did. I hope now you can understand the reasoning behind my hasty departure and forgive me for it. I love you so much, father, and I am so, so sorry. Know that I will write again when I have a spare moment's time. I promise to assure you of my safety._

_Love Always,_

_Elizabeth_

* * *

_Dearest Will & Rosalind,_

_I felt the need to write to you both, if only to thank you again for aiding Jack and myself in our departure from Port Royale. I fear that by now you have both been harassed with unfair interrogations and I must apologize for it, for you only acted on my behalf. I am so sorry and I hope that someday I can repay you both in the way you deserve._

_We are now almost half a day's journey away from Port Royale. Upon my arrival on the Black Pearl, I immediately went to work to help the crew as we left. Jack objected and told me I was free to do as I pleased, but I __wanted__ to help. I feel that assisting the crew in any way I can is the least I can do to repay Jack for his kindness. Whoever would have thought that the feared, legendary Captain Jack Sparrow would have such a soft heart, especially for the prim, proper daughter of the governor of Port Royale? The thought makes me smile… our friendship still surprises me, even now._

_My entire body aches from the hard work, but it is the best possible ache any individual could experience. I am pleased with the job I did and already feel like I belong here. Anamaria jumped ship in Nassau several weeks ago, so I will not find the female companionship I was hoping for, but many of the men here are friendly and welcoming. Mister Gibbs, however superstitious he may be over my presence, acted as a guide and I felt comfortable staying close to him all day. Mister Cotton (Will, you remember him… the man with no tongue?) assisted me in the rigging and Marty has promised to teach me how to properly tie different knots. (Apparently this is a skill I will benefit from having.) However, I could feel Jack watching me all day. Every time I turned around, he was not far away, and I was comforted and pleased at knowing he was nearby._

_Speaking of Jack, I now reside in his cabin. I had assumed that I would sleep in a hammock with the rest of the crew, but Jack was quite to tell me otherwise. He says he trusts me and he trusts most of them, but that he is still fearful for my safety. Just to be careful, he has instructed me to take his bunk and he will set up his own hammock somewhere else in the cabin. Again, I find this comforting. Knowing that he will be nearby is a good thought to have for I feel so safe when I am with him._

_The Pearl is headed towards the Azores Islands. I am not sure exactly when we are expected to make port (or not make port, for Jack seems to favor anchoring the ship in quiet, secluded spots), but I will write again when we do. Jack has assured me that we will make a brief stop in Tortuga for the sole purpose of mailing this letter, as well as one I have written to my father and one I have yet to write to James… I still am not sure as to what I should say to him, as to what I could possibly do to ease the pain I must have caused him. Jack and Mister Gibbs both agree that our journey to the Azores will take at least a week, weather permitting. I will write again when we arrive._

_I will confide that the both of you are the only ones who know of my true whereabouts. I lightly hinted to them in the letter to my father, simply to ease any worries he must have. Look after him for me? I love you both and look forward to the day when I will see you again._

_Your Friend,_

_Elizabeth Swann_

* * *

_Dear James,_

_I am so sorry. That, before anything else, must be said. By now, my fleeing from Port Royale is obvious, and I apologize with the utmost sincerity for the pain this must have caused you and your family. I never wished nor intended to cause you the shame and embarrassment you must be feeling and I hope that you can find it in your heart to someday forgive me, though I know I do not deserve it._

_I will keep this letter brief, for I know my words of apology carry the possibility of causing you more sorrow that I do not wish to inflict. However, I cannot end this letter without explaining my reasons for leaving. _

_I love you, James, though more as a brother or a dear friend than as a fiancé. You deserve someone who will love you with deep passion and sincerity. Someday, you will make a fine husband, that I do not doubt. But I am not capable of making a fine wife, not to you, at least. My desires and dreams do not match yours and our union would not have been a happy one. You are an exceptional man and I care for you deeply. My only hope is that the pain I have caused you now will be less than the pain I would have caused should we have gotten married._

_Again, I am sorry. I know my apology must not mean much, but it is an honest one. I promise you that I am safe, though I would understand your indifference to my whereabouts. I'm so sorry, James…_

_I'm sorry._

_Elizabeth_

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's it for this chapterette! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I have yet to plan out the next chapter, so I'm not sure exactly as to when it will be posted, but know that the story is far from finished.

There is also a new, beautiful 3D drawing for this story created by the lovely Sassy Sparrow (thank you so much!). You can find the link for it in my profile!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review!


	17. Sunrise

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN—Sunrise**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, all! My biggest thanks to everyone who reviewed. Midterms are coming up and all the feedback adds some much needed happiness to a very stressful time. I have another lab exam on Monday, which means this will likely be the last update until then or the next day.

Anyways, enough of my ridiculous ramblings. This chapter is a little short, but very sweet, and includes a bit of foreshadowing of all the Sparrabethy goodness to come in future chapters!

On with the chapter!

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth was awake earlier than she wanted to be. Before she could even open her eyes, she could feel the burn of exhaustion that lurked behind her heavy lids and let out a quiet groan as she struggled to sit up. A faint smile crossed her lips, however, when she was greeted with the warm, familiar smell of rum, spices and sweat. She rolled onto her stomach, her eyes still firmly closed, and breathed in deeply through her nose, taking in the scent that was so uniquely Jack's.

Jack.

Jack…

With the thought of the man that had managed to worm his way into her heart—in the way that only a pirate could—came the memories of the past twenty-four hours. She suddenly thought of her father and of James, of Will and Rosalind… of the life she was leaving behind so she could start a new one. Elizabeth hated feeling like she had abandoned them, like she had a reason to be guilty. This was what she _wanted._ Why should she have to suffer for finally going after _her_ dreams, striving to achieve _her_ wishes?

_Because your dreams shatter those of the people you care about. _The thought made her stomach do a somersault and she pushed Port Royale out of her mind, focusing with tremendous effort on the here and now. She stretched as she sat up, pulling her pillow (or rather, Jack's pillow) into her lap. She found comfort in its scent.

As Elizabeth's eyes adjusted to the surroundings of Jack's cabin, she realized that, aside from herself, it was vacant. From where the bunk was, she had full view of Jack's hammock, and he was not in it. She frowned slightly, for she had been hoping that he would be there when she awoke. Yet, at the same time, she had known he wouldn't be. She knew full well that the only woman in Jack's life consisted of, as he had once put it, a keel and a hull and deck and sails… her name was _Pearl._ The Black Pearl and his life as a pirate were at the top of his priority list and she didn't expect him to sit around and coddle her now that she had joined the crew. And to be perfectly honest, she didn't want him to. Jack's dedication was one of the many things she adored about him… even if that dedication wasn't directed at her.

Elizabeth sighed and glanced towards the large, cabin window. There were no rays of sunshine peeking in through the holes in the curtains, indicating to her that it was still dark outside. With another stretch and a grunt of frustration (knowing she would not be able to fall asleep again), she threw the covers back and placed her feet on the wooden floorboards. With no desire to get fully dressed, she reached for her coat (or rather, Will's coat) and pulled it on, wrapping it loosely around her body. She then stepped into her shoes, which wasn't difficult due to their large size.

She made her way over to the washbasin and splashed her face with the cool water there before realizing how surprising it was that Jack even _had _a washbasin. The mirror hanging above it was old and dirty and she grimaced before wiping away some of the dirt with her jacket sleeve. She loosely tied her hair back into a braid, allowing a few wispy strands to dangle down and frame her face.

She was almost to the door when she noticed something strange. The wooden chair beside Jack's hammock was occupied with all of his things. His jacket, sash and ever-present bandana were crumbled in a heap on the chair's seat while his boots were tucked underneath, sitting on the floor. His effects, including his hat, sword, and pistol, were arranged neatly around the chair. Only his compass, breeches and shirt were missing. Elizabeth frowned slightly before opening the door, carefully latching it behind her as she left.

* * *

The early morning breeze was cool and welcoming against the typically humid Caribbean weather. The horizon line was just beginning to illuminate with a soft, rosy color, evidence that the sun would be gracing the world with its presence in just a few moments. The view from the crow's nest was enough to make even the shrewdest individual feel peaceful and content… but then again, Jack Sparrow was not your average individual.

He was leaning forward on his elbows against the nest's wooden railing and had been chewing the inside of his lip for so long that he'd managed to break the skin there. With Gibbs, his most-trusted quartermaster at the wheel, and Elizabeth sleeping peacefully in _his_ cabin, he should have felt completely calm. However, it was quite the opposite. He felt… conflicted. Pleased to have Elizabeth in his company, yet terrified by it.

The leather chord attached to his compass was tied loosely around his finger, and even though he knew what it would tell him, he pulled it into the palm of his hand and flicked open the lid anyways. Sure enough, the arrow was stubbornly pointed towards his cabin, or rather, the lovely creature occupying it.

"Bloody stupid…" he muttered, trailing off before he could finish his thought. Ever since that night on the island, that night that seemed so long ago, the compass had done him no good. He'd been relying on his keen sense of direction for months now, for his compass always pointed towards Port Royale… towards _her_.

"_This compass," _Tia had told him, _"points to what you want most in dis world. Use it well, Jack Sparrow, for de compass does not lie."_

He couldn't even remember now what he'd traded for it, though he remembered it had worked just like any other compass until Elizabeth came along. He had always considered going back to Tia Dalma's little shack and demanding his payment back, for the compass didn't work as she said it would. _Points to what I want most indeed, _he had thought. It was only when he sat in the cramped, damp brig on the Dauntless that he noticed the dial spinning every time she entered to visit him. He recalled (rather unfondly) the sleepless nights he'd spent when he discovered that it stopped, pointed directly at her, whenever she was near, and that when she was far, it pointed in her general direction.

Jack had never been in love and he wasn't even sure he was in love _now_, but he knew that Elizabeth meant more to him than any one person or any one thing ever had. And that notion scared the hell out of him. Not only was he certain that she had no real romantic feelings for _him_, he was entirely positive that he was not capable of being a good match for her. As much as he disapproved of her union to James, he knew that the commodore would have taken good care of her. He was capable of providing a solid life… a good home, plenty of food, nice clothing. And what was _he _capable of? A drafty cabin on a ship full of wanted criminals, hard-tac and grog, and men's clothing that would likely always be too big for her slight frame.

Since Elizabeth had been on board, he had decided that he would do his best anyways. His cabin might be drafty, but it was far better suited for his Lizzie than the damp, creaky confines of the crew's quarters. He'd make sure that she was always first in line when meals were served, so that she always had the first pick and therefore got the best food the ship could offer. And as soon as they made port in Tortuga, which was only a few short hours away now, he'd find her clothing that fit properly, so she'd be as comfortable as possible. A pirate's life was undoubtedly a difficult one, but so long as he had a breath in his body, he'd make sure that hers was as best as it could be.

_As best as it could be_. Right. He snorted.

"Let's just focus on making it as _long_ as it can be," he murmured under his breath, knowing full well what lay ahead of him, a dark thought indeed. "Unlucky number thirteen," he muttered again, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. He had acquired the Black Pearl—or rather, salvaged her—nearly thirteen years ago by making a deal with the devil himself. Had he known that the Pearl would only be in his possession for a mere two years out of the total thirteen, he probably would have forced himself to let her go. Had he only thought about the safety of his crew, and what might happen to them should his plans to best the devil fall apart, he might have walked away. Had he only known of the fair-haired lass asleep in his cabin at that very moment, he wouldn't have given it a second thought and the Black Pearl would still be at the bottom of the ocean.

But… as it turned out, he went ahead and made that deal, the deal that sold his soul, anyways. For the time being, he'd have to focus on a way to undo what had already been done and still come out on top. Even if Elizabeth cared for him the way he cared for her, he'd have to make sure nothing ever happened between them. If word got out that Jack Sparrow had a lady-love, someone who meant the world to him, she'd instantly be caught in the crossfire and he knew it. She'd be vulnerable… and he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her because of something _he _had done before he ever even knew her.

Thinking about Elizabeth made his chest feel tight, though he was unsure as to which emotion caused him to feel that way. He pushed his thoughts of the deal he'd made when he was much younger (and much stupider) out of his head. For what felt like the millionth time that morning, he flipped open the lid of his compass with his thumb. He frowned, however, when he noticed that it had changed direction slightly…

* * *

The sky was just beginning to illuminate when Elizabeth stepped out on deck. The light breeze that hit her was cool, but not cold, and she closed her eyes, pleased at the salty sea scent that seemed to waft over her. She took a few steps forwards and craned her neck, looking over her shoulder at the quarterdeck. She had expected to see Jack there, at the wheel, for she knew a part of him had to feel complete when he was in complete control of the ship. However, she was surprised to see Gibbs there instead. For a brief moment, their eyes met and he smiled at her, albeit nervously. She gave him a slight wave with her fingers and he nodded his acknowledgement of her presence before titling his head forward. Elizabeth looked up and ahead of her to see a very familiar silhouette poking up above the crow's nest. She turned back around in Gibbs' direction to nod an unspoken "thank you," but his eyes were already trained out ahead of him, chasing the horizon.

Elizabeth took a deep breath as she headed towards the rigging. She'd only had a little bit of practice climbing them the previous day, but she felt determined enough to reach Jack without help. She wanted to be near him, maybe even _needed_ to be near him. Something about his presence made her feel right, comfortable, at home… She was feeling rather triumphant as she neared the top, having gotten there completely undetected, when she managed to lose her footing. She let out a shrill yelp and immediately saw Jack's head poke over the side of the crow's nest. Without the slightest bit of urgency, he grinned broadly at her and leaned on the railing, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"Good morning, Jack," she said confidently, struggling to regain her footing. She hoped she was successful in her attempt to hide any traces of panic she felt at the notion of plummeting to her death, though she severely doubted it.

"Mornin', luv," Jack replied, the smirk on his face never leaving. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Tryin' to sneak up on me, eh?"

"Of course not," she insisted. "I was merely hoping to discover what was so fascinating about the crow's nest at this hour, is all." It was a complete lie and her cheeks felt hot from embarrassment for she knew that he knew it.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so." She avoided his dark, captivating eyes and instead tried to focus on making it to the top in one piece.

"Well, in that event," he sighed, "would ye like some help, darlin'?"

"I'll have you know, Captain Sparrow," she huffed, her own smirk beginning to tug at the corners of her lips, "that I am quite capable do doing this on my own, thank you very much. After all, I've already made it this far without any—oh!" With one upward glance at him, she lost her footing all over again and this time it was far worse than the first. She now hung hopelessly from the rigging by both hands, her skin throbbing with pain from the blisters she had acquired the previous day. "Jack!" She called, forgetting her pride, truly panicked now.

"Hold still, Lizzie, I'm comin' for you," Jack assured her, his voice completely calm. His body language suggested otherwise, however, as he practically leapt over the side of the crow's nest and began to scurry down towards her.

Elizabeth nodded nervously, holding on as best she could and squeezing her eyes shut. The pain in her hands was enough to make her want to let go, but within minutes she felt the ropes of the rigging sagging under Jack's weight. She opened her eyes and nearly gasped upon discovering how close he was to her. He was directly beside her and said nothing, only smiling, as he placed a hand on the small of her back. With a braveness she wished she possessed, he dipped down as low as he could and took hold of her dangling ankle, helping her to re-place it on the rigging. Once the one foot was in place, she was able to resituate the other. She was ready to keep going when she felt the hardness of Jack's chest behind her, for he had positioned himself over her, assuring that she would not fall. She nervously turned her head towards his, having never been this close to him, and he smirked softly, winking at her. She knew then that he had no intentions of moving as he started to climb.

They reached the top together, yet Jack was quick to climb over her and up into the crow's nest. Once inside, he held out his arms and pulled her up with him. She was about to turn to him and offer her appreciation for his help, but was immediately captured by the beauty of the rising sun, the sky now brilliant shades of pink and orange and red.

"That, my dear," he said, moving up behind her, his mouth next to her ear. "That is what's so fascinating about the crow's nest at this hour."

Not another word was spoken as the two of them just stood there, together, watching the sun rise on a brand new day…

* * *

**A/N: **Aww, how cute!

Well, that's it for this chapter! Let me know what you guys think.

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you at the next chapter!


	18. The Pirate Life

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN—The Pirate Life**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the tremendous reviews! They mean so much to me. I found out today that my _other_ dog has to have surgery, but I will try to keep the updates as frequent as possible!

I would just like to establish a WARNING for this chapter. Towards the end, it gets a wee bit graphic as Elizabeth learns that the pirate life isn't as easy as she thought it would be. (There's a bit of coarse language and adult content.) I doubt it's anything you guys can't handle, but I just thought I'd warn you anyways so you can skim through it if it makes you uncomfortable. But I promise it will be worth it, for this chapter is a little longer than the others and has SPARRABETH written all over it!

Anyways! Thanks again for the reviews, now on with the chapter!

* * *

That _my dear… _that _is what what's so fascinating about the crow's nest at this hour._

Elizabeth had hardly expected the "that" referenced by Jack would turn out to be a sunrise. She had half expected to find him up there nursing a bottle of rum or hording some trinket of a shiny and valuable nature. When she learned, however, that the object of his attention was a sunrise, something with such a simple, undeniable beauty, made her appreciate him even more than she already did.

She spent most of her time up in that crow's nest watching him as he watching the sun appear over the horizon, thrilled (not for the first time) that he was who he was. Jack was an enigma—a perfect contradiction, and she loved him more and more for it the more time she spent with him. She loved how he always seemed to be coming up with these incredibly elaborate schemes, yet took pleasure in something as simple as writing her a letter. He came across as being this devil-may-care, worry-free adventurer who threw caution to the wind, yet when it came to _her_ he went as far as to shelter her away in his cabin.

When her feelings for Jack had started, she remembered lying in bed at night thinking "why?" Why did she have to fall a man who she could never _really_ have? And why did these feelings have to start after she was already engaged to someone else? When had things gotten so complicated? For starters, she was Elizabeth Swann, the only daughter of the governor of Port Royale. And he was Captain Jack Sparrow, the most notorious pirate captain in the Caribbean, whose reputation as a womanizer was almost as big as his reputation as an outlaw. She didn't expect him to fall for her, not even in the slightest bit, when he had clearly had his fair share of women. She couldn't imagine what about _her_ would be appealing to a man like him. And even if he did fall for her, she didn't expect him to _stay_ with her. She didn't think of him as the type to settle down and wouldn't want him to change who he was just for her. So she'd have to move on, find a way to think of someone other than him.

However, moving on from Jack was easier said than done when she had willingly run away with him. It was even harder still when he kept surprising her with how wonderful he was. When the sun had fully risen, he turned to her and without a word, guided her towards the rail of the crow's nest. Using only single words and small phrases of encouragement as he guided her back down towards the deck. Elizabeth also couldn't help but notice his hands… he had plenty of opportunities to let them wander, as she was in quite the compromising position. But he didn't. Whenever he touched her, he made sure to keep his hands in a respectable spot on her back.

When they reached the deck, she thought about her father. She was sure that if he had things _his_ way, Jack wouldn't be touching her at all and that she'd be Mrs. James Norrington by now. But she knew, as Jack winked at her and swaggered away without giving her the chance to thank him, that her father would be pleased with how he treated her. She couldn't wait for the opportunity to write to him again… she couldn't wait to tell him that she had found the gentleman within the pirate. Perhaps that would work to their advantage. Perhaps it would keep Jack safe…

* * *

Breakfast came and went and Elizabeth found herself standing in a straight line with the crew, just as if she had been a part of them forever. The Black Pearl had anchored in Tortuga's harbor, one of the few places where Jack would leave his ship in plain sight. A full day had yet to pass and already she felt like she truly belonged there. It was almost as if everything previous to Jack and the Black Pearl had been a dream and she was waking up to what her life was really supposed to be like. She smiled, vaguely listening to Jack as he barked out orders. She liked this new life.

She already knew some of the crew members from her previous adventures with Jack and was pleased to be getting to know the rest of them.

To her immediate right stood Xavier, who made up for his lack of height with his ferocious attitude. He was only a few feet taller than Marty, but according to several of his mates (and even himself), he was almost as sure a shot as their captain. He had joined the crew on the Pearl's last trek to Hispaniola, which wasn't long ago, but already seemed to be holding his own. According to Gibbs, he had a fierce temper and would make a bitter enemy, but would make an even better ally. Elizabeth had been sitting close to him at breakfast and was pleased to hear him speak fondly of Jack. She did not question his loyalty to him and was glad to know that she was not the only one who had her captain's best interests at heart.

On Elizabeth's other side was Maxwell. He wasn't a particularly big man, standing at least a few inches shorter than Jack. His accent was refined, which caused Elizabeth to believe that he'd been raised with a proper education. She spent a great part of the previous day wondering how he'd come to be a pirate, but when she witnessed the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, it was no longer a mystery. It seemed that Maxwell viewed life as a party, and he was the guest of honor. She couldn't help but wonder how he was managing to stand upright at the current moment, and only assumed that he, like Jack, had a high tolerance for liquor.

A few men down the line was Daniel, who had piqued Elizabeth's interest from the moment she met him. He was tall and broad shouldered, and as far as pirates went, very handsome. Like Maxwell, his intelligence was surprising, and she had caught him several times reading a book as he tended to his chores. In many ways, he reminded her of a far more romanticized version of Jack… he always had a charming smile to flash in her direction and was more charismatic than many men she had known back in Port Royale. She could practically see the wheels churning in his head when he spoke and wondered how many ulterior motives he had, but felt generally safe around him. One could predict his strength just by looking at him and being a woman could help her use that strength to her advantage (until she was strong enough herself, that was), then she would.

Elizabeth reminded herself to pay attention as Jack instructed Gibbs (his most trusted ally on the ship, no doubt) and two others to stay behind and guard the Pearl.

"One hour, gents!" He shouted, pacing back and forth, his hand on the handle of his sword. "Not one minute more, not one minute less." He paused, his dark eyes running up and down the line of men, falling on Elizabeth. A very slight grin fell onto his lips before he spoke again. "What say you?"

A resounding chorus of "Aye!" was heard before the crew scampered towards the longboats. Jack stood still as Elizabeth casually approached him, her hands behind her back and a lazy smile on her face.

"What?" he asked, rocking forward slightly on his feet.

She shrugged, fighting the urge to reach forward and playfully tug at the braids hanging off his chin. "This is the first time I've seen you in a full captainly capacity," she told him.

"And?" he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Do I have Miss Swann's approval?"

Elizabeth smiled and laughed softly. "No," she shook her head. "But you have _my _approval, if that's what you were getting at."

"That's my girl," Jack said with a click of his tongue, turning away from her and swaggering towards the longboats. Elizabeth stood still, wondering when she had become so helpless as the words _"my girl"_ resonated through her head over and over again.

* * *

Elizabeth's eyes were wide as Jack led her through the streets of Tortuga, his hand resting on the small of her back. The farther inland they traveled, the more apparent the town's nightlife became, as the streets were littered with bottles, many of which still had people attached to them. Men and women alike were passed out, or at the very least, hung-over, against the sides of buildings and in the openings of alleyways. Elizabeth had grown up hearing of the wild stories that came from Tortuga, always wishing to see them unfold for herself, but now she was almost glad that she hadn't.

"Disgusted?" Elizabeth looked up to see Jack's eyes watching her as they walked, an amused grin on his face.

"No…" She shook her head lightly. "…not… entirely."

"A sorry sight with the sun out, is it not?" He sighed. "Unfortunately, the daytime hours give this place the least amount of justice as to what it's like at night. I promise to bring you back here one day so you can see it the way any pirate should."

"Consider me a pirate, do you?" Elizabeth asked, almost touched at the thought, as odd as it seemed.

Jack chuckled, coming to a stop. "Oh, Lizzie, I've considered you a pirate long before you've considered it yourself." They stood there for a few moments as she thought of the right way to respond to him, but before she could he motioned upwards with a slight tilt of his head. Elizabeth's eyes glanced up to the wooden sign hanging above them that read _The Faithful Bride_. "You remembered the letters, Lizzie?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding slightly. She still felt like a coward, felt so outlandish at explaining her sorrow to the people she cared about in words as opposed to having the courage to do it in person, but for now, it would have to do. Jack opened the door for her, prompting her to enter first, and she wished that she was half the pirate he thought she was.

The bar was poorly lit and sleepy, with only two patrons in the entire establishment. One was passed out, slumped in the far corner, while the other had his nose buried in a mug, unnoticing (or uncaring) that anyone else had entered. It was a sorry sight indeed and once again, Elizabeth wished she could see it at night.

"So this is where I've been sending my letters," she said quietly, turning her head slightly in Jack's direction.

"No," he corrected, "this is where _Will_ has been sending yer letters. An' it doesn't always look like… this."

Before Elizabeth could reply, a door towards the back of the pub opened and out stepped a young woman, who, judging by her appearance, had a questionable reputation, to say the least. Her cheeks were caked with rogue and her stringy hair was piled loosely atop her head. Her curvy figure suggested she had no use for a corset and for a brief second, Elizabeth envied her cleavage. Not far behind her was a man who appeared to be Jack's age, who clearly cared as little about his reputation as he female companion, for he fastened his belt as he walked.

"An' that," Jack continued, "is the gent who's been keepin' them for you. Phil."

"I see," Elizabeth nodded before biting her lip gently, an attempt to keep herself from saying something she would regret later. Apparently the proper governor's daughter she'd been raised to be was not as far gone as she originally thought. "Well, if you deem him trustworthy, then—"

Before she could finish, Phil looked up and a cocky smile flashed across his face without the slightest hint of embarrassment. He leaned over to the young woman in his company and whispered something in her ear before giving her a hefty pat on the backside. She giggled and turned back into the room she'd appeared from as Phil slicked back his hair on the way over to where Jack and Elizabeth stood.

"Jackie, s'been awhile," Phil said, his eyes darting between the two. "Have another brush with the authorities, have we?"

"Not recently," Jack replied, a cocky grin to match Phil's crossing his fine features. "You?"

"Authorities? In Tortuga?" Phil chuckled. "My, my, Jackie, you've been around longer than I thought." His eyes fell to Elizabeth and his grin changed from a cocky one to a charming one, though Elizabeth failed to notice the difference. He plucked her hand up from her side and brought it towards his lips, kissing it briefly. "And who might this lovely young cherub be, hmm?"

"Drop it," Jack cautioned, taking a step forward, placing half of his body in front of Elizabeth. "This, Phillip, is Elizabeth Swann."

"The… governor's daughter," Phil did as he was told, dropping her hand. He suddenly became nervous and fidgety, realizing his mistake. "My apologies." Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that his apologies were directed to Jack. "I've heard nothin' but wonderful things about ye, Miss Swann." Elizabeth looked to Jack, whose eyes were focused firmly on the ground.

"Have you?" she asked, still waiting for Jack to look at her, but he did not. Nothing but good things? Had she been wallowing so deeply in self-pity that she hadn't noticed that Jack cared for her more than she originally realized?

"Nothing but wonderful things," he repeated.

"I need a small favor, Phil," Jack said, quickly changing the subject. He finally looked up, though he still avoided Elizabeth's eyes.

"O'course," Phil folded his arms lightly, shrugging. "Name it."

"It would be much appreciated," Elizabeth started, taking the letters out from the fold in her jacket, "if you could mail these to Port Royale. My father must be so worried about me… I only wish to inform him that I am safe."

"Hold on a second," Phil took a step back, holding his hands up. "What do ye mean, yer father must be worried about ye?" His eyes darted to Jack. "Jackie…"

"Well, we sort of left in a hurry, that's all," Jack said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "No big deal."

"I do not want to be standin' next to you at the gallows with a noose around me neck, Jack," Phil said firmly, pointing his finger at him.

"What makes ye think _I'll _be standin' at the gallows?" Jack said, his brow furrowing.

"I promise, your involvement will remain unknown," Elizabeth assured him. "My father doesn't even know the company I'm keeping. He doesn't know where I am, you're safe, I assure you."

"Promise?" Phil asked, his arms folded again.

"I swear on me mum's eyes."

"Yer mum's dead. Has been for nearly thirteen years."

"Well then I swear on _your_ mother's eyes," Jack counteracted.

"That's yer aunt yer talkin' about, boy. Ye better be serious."

"Cross my heart," Jack said, snatching the letters from Lizzie's hand and handing them over to Phil. Phil sighed, clearly agitated, but took them anyways. "I owe ye one, I promise," Jack smirked, lightly punching him in the arm.

"Ye owe me more than one, mate," Phil replied before smiling at Elizabeth. "You'll keep an eye on 'im, darlin'?"

"I always have." When she said that, Jack finally looked at her, however briefly.

"Alright, then. Try to stay out of trouble, Jackie. It would break yer father's heart if anythin' were to happen to you," Phil said.

Jack muttered something about his father under his breath before escorting Elizabeth out of the tavern. No more than two words were spoken as the wondered silently back towards the Black Pearl.

* * *

In the time that Elizabeth had known Jack, she had seen him react to many different situations, seen him with the face of many different emotions. She had yet, however, to see him react to embarrassment in quite this way. Knowing that she knew that he'd been talking about her (in a glowingly positive way) made him quiet and reclusive, and as the Pearl sailed on towards the Azores islands, she saw very little of him.

She spent almost an hour, just watching him work in his cabin, until she could bear the awkward silence no longer. She excused herself, announcing that she was going to get something to drink, and disappeared from his sight before he could respond. She now found herself in the dark, damp cargo hold, rummaging the barren shelves for a bottle of rum. She was still getting used to the taste of the bitter alcohol, but she found it a welcome companion against Jack's silent treatment.

Her lantern did very little to illuminate the small space, swinging freely with the bobbing of the ship from a hook on the low ceiling. She heard the door to the hold slam in the near distance but chose to ignore it, angry with Jack for taking his embarrassed frustration out on her. She heard heavy footsteps behind her but didn't bother to speak until they stopped just behind her.

"Did you not think me capable to find—" She turned around and jumped, faced with someone she was not expecting to see. "Maxwell!" she gasped. "You startled me."

"I meant no harm," he said, his voice cool and smooth. He flashed her one of his charming grins, though with him blocking her only exit, Elizabeth found it less than appealing. "Did you think I was the capt'n?"

"Well, yes," she admitted, taking a small step backwards.

"You know, Miss Elizabeth," Maxwell said, his voice dropping. He was quick to close the small gap she had just created. "When I joined this crew, Captain Sparrow promised all of us an equal share of whatever treasure we should come upon." He took another step closer and she struggled to maintain her composure, struggled to keep herself from grimacing as she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Did he?" She hoped the waver in her voice wasn't as apparent to him as it was to her. It would have been nonexistent had she been armed, but the pistol and cutlass Jack had supplied her with were upstairs in his cabin.

"Seems he hasn't kept his promise," Maxwell slurred, reaching out and tracing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "That's a crime in itself, is it not?"

"He's a pirate," she reminded him, subtly reaching behind her for one of the many empty bottles lining the shelves. Her fingers found the neck of one and as Maxwell drew closer to her, she tightened her grip and brought it out, prepared to collide it against his head, if she had to. But he was too quick for her, despite his inebriation, and grabbed her wrist, causing her to release her grip and watch as the bottle came smashing to the ground.

"Aye," he snarled, whipping out a dagger and holding the blade dangerously close to her throat. "He is. And so am I. Do you know what pirates do, Miss Swann?" She dared not speak, feeling the point of the blade hovering above her skin. "We take what we want and make no apologies for it." She whimpered when he lowered his mouth to her neck, placing a sloppy wet kiss against her throat. "You'll be wise not to scream."

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as his hand traveled down her body, her mind frantically planning what to do next. Her strength was no match for his, and she was unarmed. She willed herself not to cry, knowing what she had to do, despite the risks. As Maxwell's hand came to rest on her thigh, the blade lowered slightly from her neck and Elizabeth took that brief distraction to make her move. She roughly shoved him away from her and ran towards the stairwell.

"Jack—!" Her strangled scream was cut short when she felt Maxwell grab her roughly by the shoulders, throwing her to the ground. Her head hit the wooden planks and she instantly felt dizzy, looking up at him with blurry vision.

"Stupid bitch!" Maxwell hissed, on his knees in an instant, crawling over her body. She flailed and struggled against him, praying that someone would hear her cries from way down in the cargo hold, though doubting she would be that lucky. Warm, salty tears streamed down her cheeks as she futiley fought against him. He only responded by reaching for the top of her blouse, ripping it open and exposing her chest. Elizabeth immediately regretted not binding her breasts that morning.

Countless thoughts ran through her mind. What had she gotten herself into? What had she done to make him do this to her? Her arms began to ache with the struggle to push Maxwell away from her, to no avail. She felt him reach down towards his belt when she heard the door swing open, swift footsteps coming down the stairs. She tried to let out another yelp, but Maxwell's hand clamped over her mouth before she could do so.

She could see Xavier and Daniel over Maxwell's shoulder and all she could do was plead with them with her eyes, praying they had different intentions than her attacker. Xavier's eyes quickly narrowed into slits and both men dove on top of Maxwell, though neither of them proved an adequate match for his strength. Within seconds, Daniel was on the floor, wiping a trickle of blood away from his nose, and Xavier, who was much smaller than both of them, was across the room.

"Get the Capt'n!" Daniel urged, reaching down to his boot. Elizabeth caught a glimmer of silver out of the corner of her eye and realized that he, too, had a dagger. But Maxwell was off of her in a second, meeting Daniel and delivering a hard knock to his ribs. Elizabeth took the opportunity to scurry into the shadows, quickly covering herself with what was left of her torn blouse. Her mind was spinning, her chest heaving. She didn't even look up as more footsteps were heard coming down the steps.

"Lizzie! Lizzie?" She only looked up when she heard Jack, who had come to rest on his knees beside her. Just the sight of her, frightened and cowering in the corner, tear stains on her perfect, porcelain cheeks, made his blood boil. He quickly shed his coat, draping it around her shoulders, ignoring the sounds of the struggle ensuing behind him. Lizzie was all that mattered. "Darlin', look at me. I need you to look at me." Wide, fearful eyes met his and he inched closer, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Are you alright, luv? Did he hurt you?"

"He…" Elizabeth's eyes darted to the opposite side of the room. "He… he tried." Jack nodded, leaning into her and pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. Knowing she was alright, if not terrified, he turned his attention elsewhere. Gibbs and Daniel were just pulling a beaten Maxwell to his feet and Jack saw red. He went absolutely livid. Without waiting for reason, he pulled the pistol from his belt and aimed it, taking a step forward and pressing the barrel of the gun against the man's forehead.

"A quick death seems an unjust punishment for he who dares harm a lady, wouldn't you agree, gents?" His voice was low and dark and he cocked his pistol, taking pleasure in the frightened look in Maxwell's eyes.

"Jack, don't!" He was pulled away by Elizabeth's shaky hands tugging on his arm. When he looked to her eyes, they were pleading with him.

"Let me handle this, Lizzie."

"Please, Jack." Elizabeth's voice cracked as she spoke. "You'll be no better than him. Please." The look on her face was enough to make him forget all about Maxwell (however temporarily), thinking only of her. He took a few deep breaths before tucking the weapon back under his belt, his eyes darting to Gibbs before darting to Maxwell.

"You _will_ be punished. I promise." Jack looked back to Gibbs. "Brig."

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bunk wearing one of Jack's shirts, a damp cloth clutched in her hand. She had scrubbed her skin so many times, yet she still felt dirty, as if she would never be clean again. Maxwell hadn't succeeded in doing what he intended to do to her, but it didn't matter. He came too close and she was afraid. This man who cared nothing about her, who she didn't love and never would, almost took something from her that she had been guarding her entire life. And Jack would have never known. That thought in itself was terrifying.

Jack had given her time to herself, yet she hadn't had the courage to tell her she didn't want time to herself. She didn't want to be alone. Every noise, however slight, made her head shoot up, made her heart pound. She was holding her breath when she heard the door open quietly.

"It's just me," a voice called. She let her eyes fall shut. _Thank God._ She said nothing, only looking up when his footsteps stopped just ahead of her. "Are ye… alright, luv?"

She nodded. "Yes." Her voice was scarcely a whisper.

Jack's eyes fell to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lizzie."

"It's not your fault."

He ignored her, continuing. "I should 'ave never let 'im on my ship. I should 'ave never let 'im near you."

"You didn't know, Jack," she said quietly, slowly rising to her feet.

"Doesn't matter." He shook his head.

Elizabeth walked to him, pausing and taking in a shaky breath before holding onto his hands. "It does. It… it matters to me." Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes and before she could stop herself, they were falling down her cheeks in thin rivulets.

"Lizzie…" His fingers were quick to wipe them away.

"I was afraid," she interjected, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I know, luv."

"No," she shook her head. "I was afraid it wouldn't be you." She felt like she was choking on her words, and perhaps his reaction to them would make her regret ever speaking them, but she pressed on anyways. Her ordeal had only proved one thing—the life she now led was a dangerous one, so dangerous that it could be taken from her in any given minute. If that notion told her something, it told her that she couldn't go on like this. Whether he reciprocated her feelings or not, she couldn't keep them to herself any longer.

"Elizabeth?" She looked up to find his eyes dark and confused.

"I was afraid I wouldn't… you wouldn't…" Elizabeth trailed off as she choked back her tears, sniffling. She watched as his eyes grew wide for a brief moment, realization hitting him.

"Oh. _Oh._" He paused. "I see."

"Oh, Jack, I'm sorry!" she cried, pulling away from him. She furiously blinked away her tears, rubbing her eyes. "I've put you in such an awful position."

"How do you figure that, Lizzie?" Jack asked, his voice so smooth, so infuriatingly placid.

"Why are you so calm?!" she shouted, her grief becoming frustration.

"Lizzie—" He took a few steps towards her.

"Here I am, trying to pour my heart out to you, and you're so bloody calm, like none of it matters!"

"Lizzie—"

"Do my feelings mean nothing to you? Are my feelings for you _humorous_?"

"Elizabeth." Jack silenced her by placing a finger over lips. They were both quiet for a few minutes as he inhaled deeply, a smile crossing his face. She frowned. Was that relief? Amusement? Happiness? She wished for just once that he would be predictable. "If you'd be willin' to let a man get a word in edgewise, he'd be very happy to do so, alright?" He paused again and she nodded. "Now, how did you describe my situation? Awful?" He chuckled. "Hardly. There are many words, my dear Lizzie, that I would use to describe my situation, but awful is simply not one of them. It was _me_, as you'll recall, what asked _you _to join the Pearl. And as you know, the Pearl is a very valuable asset to me. Do you wager I'd ask you to sail off with me if you were just some average strumpet? Hmm?"

"N—no. No." Elizabeth stared up at him with wide eyes, frightened and yet excited as to where he was taking this.

"No. I wouldn't 'ave. So allow me to make this perfectly clear, Lizzie-beth. My situation is _not _awful. It is wonderfully fortuitous, better than anything I could have planned all by me onesies. I've surmised this before, but I am a very lucky—"

"Jack," Elizabeth closed her eyes, cutting him off. "Stop talking."

Jack laughed warmly, making her smile. "Well, Lizzie. Is there somethin' else you'd rather have me do with my lips, then?" Elizabeth laughed, feeling the warmth of his breath as he lowered his head to hers. In that moment, that perfectly wonderful moment, the world stopped spinning. It was just the two of them… and he was kissing her.

* * *

**A/N: **Aww, how cute! Jack'n'Lizzie finally get their first kiss!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you at the next chapter!


	19. Dark Horizons

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**CHAPTER 16—Dark Horizons**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Thanks so much for your tremendous reviews, I really appreciate them.

I'm so sorry for promising this chapter last weekend and then not delivering, but I've been uber-busy. I'm transferring to a CSU after next semester and have therefore been busting my hump to pull off the good grades in biology. I'll try to keep updates as frequent as possible, but, as I'm sure you all understand, school comes first. Have no fears, though, I'm very proud of this story and have every intention of finishing it.

This chapter is pretty short and light, mostly fluff. (A great part of it was written when I should have been listening to my history teacher talk about the New Deal.) I'm warning you now, so don't be upset about it later! So, without anything else to say, on with the chapter!

* * *

Somewhere between midnight and dawn, a few hours south of the Azores, when it felt like the rest of the world was asleep, two love-struck fools lay awake. Ignoring their exhaustion was the easy part, for reveling in each other's company was far too sweet an opportunity to pass up. Soft kisses and romantic whisperings could barely be heard above the creak of the ship and the sloshing waves, but that hardly mattered. Their senses revolved around each other. For each, every smell was the tantalizing aroma of the other. All they could taste was the other's kiss. In that moment, the rest of the world did not exist, and if it did, they were blissfully oblivious… for all he saw was her, and all she saw was him.

For Jack Sparrow, the world was now completely different in a way he never knew he wanted it to be. He'd had his fair share of experience with creatures of the opposite sex. It seemed that he always had a certain effect on women, one that he himself didn't fully understand. Ironically, the one girl he had wanted more than any other had been the very same girl he could not have. Had she been anyone else, his pursuit of her would have been relentless. His desire of her would have been well-known by all parties involved. However, she was not just any other strumpet. She was his beam of light, his rose in a world of daisies. She was comfort and beauty personified.

His problem was that he just cared about her too much. So he found himself standing still, watching his rose from the shadows as she grew in the light of another man's affection. Had he only known that the commodore's love was not reciprocated, that it was scorching, doing more to wilt his rose than anything else, he would have whisked her away all the sooner. And now that she truly was _his_, he would make sure that the freedom she craved could always be found with him. This beautiful, incredible woman who lay opposite him, smiling and laughing, would always be who _she _wanted to be, and he would love her for it. He had no ambitions to protect her from the world as some men did. He wanted to _show_ her the world.

He knew she would never fully realize how _she _had shown _him_ the world, introduced him to new perspectives and ideas that he hadn't realized he'd been missing. He had refused to make a connection like the one he had with her now. He had faced things that most people only saw in their nightmares or read about in books of adventure and fantasy, yet the one thing he feared above all else was being in love. The prospect of relying on someone else, trusting them, wanting them, needing them… the prospect was terrifying to him, to someone who had spent the better part of his life learning how to get by on his own.

But now, he understood why it was referred to as "falling" in love. He met this girl and had been falling ever since, tumbling deeper and deeper into the realm of her perfection. Now, completely unable to deny that he was in love with her, he couldn't comprehend in the slightest why he had resisted this glorious feeling for so long. Then again, he was almost glad he had, for he couldn't imagine experiencing this "love" thing with anyone else.

For Elizabeth Swann, she finally felt like she had always wanted to feel. She was completely content, the fog of loss and confusion dissipating under the warmth that he brought to her life. She had been struggling for so long, trying to find out who she really was, what she really wanted, where she belonged. It was only a recent development that she realized that being welcome somewhere and truly belonging somewhere were two very different things. She would always be welcomed in the world her father had raised her in, a world of desires and corsets, of afternoon tea and dinner parties. It was only recently that she found home, where she belonged and truly wanted to be. In her heart, she was a pirate… a treasure seeker, a thrill seeker, but most importantly, a freedom seeker. Jack had not only introduced her to this new world, but had guided her through it, shown it to her in a way that only he could.

That was the thing about Jack. Elizabeth knew, even from the very first moment she met him, that there was something very different about him. It was one thing to read about the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow in books or see his handsome face sketched on wanted posters all over town, but no representation of him did justice to the man she had come to know and love. What other people might perceive as quirks or oddities—the dreadlocks, the trinkets, the kohl lined eyes—she embraced. To him, they were normal, the things that made him who he was. Quite frankly, Elizabeth loved him for who he was, as he was, and she didn't want him to change in the slightest bit, not for her, not for anyone. In fact, it was Jack's uniqueness that she loved most about him… the fact that he was completely unlike any man she had ever met before. When her father was proper, Jack threw propriety right out the window. When James played by the rules, Jack broke every single one. When Will was quiet and reserved, Jack was completely outspoken. And yet, he was the finest man she had ever known.

She never would have imagined that she would be where she was at that moment, lying in the bunk of a _pirate _ship, staring into the dark, fathomless eyes of said-ship's captain. But she was there, and now that she was, she couldn't be happier. He was _her_ captain. Every few minutes or so, he would lean into her, placing light, ticklish (thanks to the rough, scratchy hair on his chin and jaw) kisses on her cheek, collar bone or forehead. Every time he got close to her like that, she was overwhelmed with how beautiful he really was, and she couldn't help but wonder if he knew it. His intuition astounded her, even after all the time she'd known him. The previous night, that wonderful night when he made love to her, it was as if he knew exactly what to do. This wasn't surprising, considering she knew he must have had more experience in _that _particular arena, but his instinct was perfectly comforting all the same. Everything he did… it was like he knew exactly how she wanted to be kissed, how she wanted to be touched, to be held. He was her rock, her safety net, her reassurance… he was everything.

"Ye look very content," he finally said, breaking the silence as he traced his fingers ever so lightly across her jaw.

"I am very content," she assured him, smiling. It felt indescribably good for him to be touching her like that. "Though I must admit, something is troubling me."

"Well," Jack snorted. He nudged his arm under her body, wrapping it around her back and pulling her against him. "Can't have that now, can we?" His voice was playful, but he was perfectly serious. "Tell me, luv, what ails you?"

She grinned, a cat-like grin, pleased that she was able to tease him. James never understood her teasing. "I'm dismayed at the thought of sharing your affections."

"Share me affections? Utterly preposterous," he scoffed.

"I do," Elizabeth laughed, taking a light grip on the two braids that dangled from his chin and tugging slightly. She leaned back from him a little bit, allowing her hand to trace the smooth wood on the walls. "I share you with this lady, here."

"Ahh…" Jack winked. "I'll share a secret with you, darlin'."

"Oh?" Elizabeth arched her eyebrows, grinning again. "I feel so very privileged."

Jack chuckled before leaning in, whispering in her ear. "Out of the two of you, you're me favorite. But don't let 'er know that. Don't want to go hurtin' 'er feelings now, do we?"

"No," Elizabeth said softly, her heart swelling for the man. Oh, how she loved him. She knew he cared for her and he had just proven that affection by admitting that she was more important to him than the Pearl, but she was still unsure as to the extent of his affections. She couldn't fathom how painful it would be for her to tell him she loved him and not hear him say the same words back to her. She closed her eyes when she felt his lips brush against her forehead. She needed to think of something else. "How did you acquire her?" she asked, her voice quiet and gentle.

"S'a long story, luv," he said slowly, running his hand down her back. "And it's late." It was a long story, true enough, but his hesitation to tell her the truth came flooding to him like a tsunami with the image of Davy Jones' face flashing through his mind. If there was anyone more ruthless than Hector Barbossa, it was Davy Jones, and now Elizabeth was in the line of fire. He had made her vulnerable.

"I'm not tired," she said, tracing small shapes on his bare chest. "Please tell me?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I did, Lizzie."

"Jack." The gentle tug in her voice pulled his eyes to hers like a moth to a flame, and once their eyes locked, he was stuck, captivated by her. "I will make you tell me anything you don't want to. It's _your _story to tell. But I wish you would." He sighed. The way she trusted him was astounding. No one had ever put that much faith in him before. That notion alone made him want to confess every little horrible thing he'd ever done.

He heard a voice then. Maybe it was Elizabeth's, maybe it was some greater force. But it was telling him to tell her. He knew how unfair this was to her, how unfair it was that there was something out there that could hurt her when she was completely unprepared for it. He was absolutely confident that he could protect her, that he would come up with a way to pay his debt before Jones would use Elizabeth against him… but maybe if she just _knew _about it, if she was just prepared, she'd be safer in the long-run.

_I can't deny you anything_, he wanted to say. Instead, he took a deep breath, breathing through his nose. "I was born on this ship," he told her.

"You were not," Elizabeth laughed. When she noticed that Jack's chiseled features were not smiling back at her, her eyes widened. "You're serious."

"Pirate's honor," Jack winked and flashed a grin at her, making her relax a little bit. "And raised here." He took another deep breath and his dark eyes darted up and away from her, making her believe that something wasn't quite right with her captain. She could guess right away that he wasn't used to talking about his childhood and she wondered if he had ever been able to open up to anyone before.

"Jack, you don't have to—" she started, her voice soft, but he went on.

"You're looking at the result of a torrid and brief affair between Captain Teague Sparrow and Captain Isabela Morrego."

"Isabela Morrego?" Elizabeth's brow furrowed slightly, her mind flashing back to her childhood, to a stack of books about pirates and piracy that sat beside her bed. She could almost hear the smooth sound of her mother's reading to her…

"Aye." Jack smiled, his eyes still avoiding hers, but now there was a certain warmth to his voice. "Forget Rackham. My mum was solely responsible for teachin' Bonny'n'Read everythin' they knew." She watched, feeling utterly conflicted as his eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat.

"You don't have to keep going, you know," she whispered, leaning towards him and placing her hand on his cheek.

"Yes," he said, nodding his head. "I do."

"Jack—"

"She didn't introduce me to my father 'till I was 14. In October of that year, she left me in Shipwreck Cove for a short while, to get to know 'im or whatnot. Mostly 'cause she had a bearin' to the Isla de Muerta and didn't rightfully know what she'd find there an' didn't want me gettin' into trouble. Like I always did." Jack paused for a brief moment, a small, sad little smile crossing his face. "She was a good woman. A good pirate. But all it took was one storm and it all went to hell."

"Jack, I—"

"Captain always goes down with the ship," he muttered quietly. Then everything was silent and suddenly her chest hurt. She moved her hand down his face ever so slightly, her thumb brushing against his bottom lip, urging him to look at her.

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth leaned into him, letting her mouth just barely kiss his. "My mother died when I was eight," she told him, finding great comfort when he looked up to her, allowing his eyes to meet hers. Then, before he could respond, a thought crossed her mind. "Jack…?"

"Mmm?"

"You said… you said the captain always goes down with the ship. But the ship is yours now." Jack nervously began to chew his lip. "I don't understand."

"Few years later… I was young." He chuckled softly. "More stupid than I am now, if you believe it." He paused again. "This ship was _everything_ to my mother."

Jack suddenly pulled away from her, throwing the sheets off his body. Elizabeth sat up, holding the sheets around her own body. She could only see his back from where she was, but the tension in his muscles was painfully obvious. She sat quietly, watching as he pulled his breeches on before reaching for the bottle of rum that sat on his desk. He refused to turn around and face her and she felt utterly helpless as she watched him tilt his head back and drink.

Slowly, very slowly, he set the bottle down on the desk's surface and turned around to face her, carefully maintaining a steady gaze on the floor. He had just barely opened his mouth to speak when a heavy banging sounded on the door.

"Capt'n??" It was Gibbs.

Elizabeth's eyes darted from Jack to the door and then back to Jack again. Gibbs banging on the cabin door in the middle of the night was never good. Judging by the stern look that crossed Jack's face, he was thinking the same thing he was. He didn't bother to pull a shirt on before making his way to the cabin door and unlatching the locks there, pulling it open.

Gibbs didn't wait for Jack to speak before speaking himself. "Ship approachin'," he said breathlessly.

"Colors?" Jack asked, his voice taking on an all new tone of seriousness.

Gibbs shook his head. "She's familiar."

"And?" Jack continued.

"The Dauntless."

* * *

**A/N: **Dun, dun, dun!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	20. She Pirate

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**20—She-Pirate**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome!

I would have gotten this chapter up a lot sooner had I not had a serious case of writer's block, which has been cured thanks to the marvelous and oh-so-helpful **driver picks the music**! Once again, she's let me use her as a sound-board and I could not be more appreciative. So not only did she listen to me babble, but she was so awesome as to come up with the idea for this chapter. Thank you, darlin', you're the best!

So, without further ado, on with the chapter!

* * *

Gibbs didn't wait for Jack to speak before speaking himself. "Ship approachin'," he said breathlessly.

"Colors?" Jack asked, his voice taking on an all new tone of seriousness.

Gibbs shook his head. "She's familiar."

"And?" Jack continued.

"The Dauntless."

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat, her grip tightening on the sheets around her body so much her knuckles turned white. _The Dauntless. _She knew that the Dauntless was the only ship that could catch up to the Pearl, now with the Interceptor lying in pieces at the bottom of the ocean. And she knew from the minute she had left with Jack that James would likely pursue them, but she didn't realize it would be this soon. For the first time in her life, she was truly afraid of James, terrified as to what he might be capable of. She knew he would never bestow any malicious behavior on _her_, but where Jack was concerned, she wasn't sure, and that was frightening.

"Prepare the crew, have the cannons ready an' waiting." Jack instructed Gibbs, his voice smooth and calm. "I'll be out in a moment."

"Aye, Capt'n."

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, listening as Jack closed the door and the sound of his bare feet padding across the cabin grew closer. She took in a shaky breath and opened her eyes to see him pulling on his shirt.

"Well, it seems yer bloody fiancé wasted no time in tryin' to find you again," he muttered, looking around for his boots. She wasted no time herself as he sat in the desk chair, pulling them on quickly. She tossed the sheets off her body and began rummaging around for her own clothes, ignoring the click of Jack's tongue and his whistle as she pulled her blouse over her head and then her breeches.

"It seems not," she replied, trying with immense effort to hide the trepidation from her voice. "I knew he might come after us, but I didn't think it would be so soon."

Jack snorted, causing Elizabeth's eyes to shoot up towards his. "Hardly. Good ole Norrie hardly seems the type to sit around and lick his wounds." She sat on the edge of the bunk, fiddling with her belt buckle (or at least pretending to), watching him out of the corner of her eye as he stalked towards her. She had hoped he was going to lean down and kiss her, tell her it was going to be alright, but instead he only reached for his sash.

"You don't… do you think someone sold us out?" she asked timidly.

"No," he said with a shrug. "But your fondness of me was hardly a secret 'fore you left an' Norrington's a smart man. When he learned ye ran away, I might have seemed much to obvious an option to run away to… or rather, with."

By now, Jack was nearly completely dressed and so was she. He was securing his pistol under his belt when he looked up to see her securing her hat on her head. "Ye won't be needing that in here," he said rather flatly, his brow furrowing.

This time it was Elizabeth who snorted. "You wouldn't dream of locking me in here."

"Damn straight I would," he replied sternly.

"Not if you ever wish to spend the night with me again." She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm a competent adult and you have absolutely no right to—"

"Last time I checked, I was still captain of this vessel."

"Jack…" Elizabeth reached out and took hold of his hand, squeezing lightly. She smiled gently when she noticed his hardened expression softening, pausing to think for several moments. She had to think of a plan and she had to think of one fast.

"Lizzie, m'serious."

"So am I," she told him. "I could be a huge asset to you, Jack, if you'll only let me."

"Not worth the risk."

"Jack—"

"You know more'n anyone how determined that man is to see me at the end of a hangman's noose."

"Just as I know how much the very same man cares for me," she reminded him. She took a step closer to him, feeling the heat radiating off his body. "James will be watching himself to see you on deck. You're his target, I will not pretend to be naive to that. But if he sees me first, he won't risk an attack. I _know _his affections for me outweigh his vendetta against you." Jack stood quiet for a few moments, his eyes averting hers as he chewed on his bottom lip, pondering. "Trust me, Jack."

Jack breathed in deeply through his nose before speaking. Before he could, there was another knock at the door. Jack turned his head slightly, listening.

"We're ready, Capt'n!" Gibbs called.

Jack turned back to Elizabeth, leaning in to briefly swipe a kiss against her temple. Without speaking, he headed for the door. She watched him, a piece of her heart sinking slowly in her chest when he turned back to face her.

"Are you comin' or not, luv?"

* * *

The night air was unsettlingly cool, the gentle sea-breeze blowing harder until it became full-fledged wind. The waves churned and lapped against the side of the Dauntless, causing the mighty ship to rock back and forth as if she were a giant cradle.

Her crew was waiting anxiously on the commodore's orders. For many, this was their maiden voyage, and though the intention for said-voyage was never a secret to them, actually coming upon the famed and feared Black Pearl in the middle of the night was more than slightly unnerving. As for the commodore himself, he stood on the quarterdeck at the ship's rail, a telescope held in front of his stern and solemn face. None of the Pearl's crew looked at all familiar and her captain had remained elusive.

Just there! A mass of tangled dark hair crossed his line of vision. He lowered the telescope from his face for a brief moment, narrowing his eyes. When he raised the telescope back to his eye, the sight that greeted him made his chest ache in the most uncomfortable way, going so far as to make him feel short of breath. Standing there, beside that mass of tangled dark hair was a flurry of golden blonde hair. There was no mistaking her, even though she was dressed as she was.

He didn't want to be right. He didn't want to believe that his Elizabeth would have run off with that… that _pirate_. And here she was, not only socializing with the lot, but dressed as one! Not for the first time, James was glad that he had not welcomed Weatherby Swann on the voyage. The sight would surely break the older man's heart even more than his own.

"Orders, Commodore?" James reluctantly lowered the telescope from his face upon hearing Lieutenant Gillette behind him. "The cannons are ready, sir, and the crew is in position. Shall I give the order?"

"Hold fire," he instructed, turning to face the puzzled look on the lieutenant's face. "Just as suspected, Elizabeth is on board the Black Pearl. We are to approach the ship slowly to insinuate our neutrality. Not one cannon or musket is to be fired until she is safely on board the Dauntless."

"But sir, the weather is growing increasingly foul. We haven't the time to—"

"I promised the governor I would bring his daughter home safely. I have every intention of keeping that promise, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

On the opposing ship, the crew was equally as nervous as that of the enemy. Taking down a ship as large as the Dauntless would be no easy task, even for a ship like the Black Pearl. Still, each and every crew member stood at their station, waiting for their captain's orders.

At the railing stood Elizabeth, with Jack hovering behind her. If he could not succeed in locking her safely away in his cabin, he would succeed in keeping her close to him at all times. Just behind him stood Gibbs, who nervously muttered little comments under his breath and repeatedly took swigs of rum from his flask.

"Any of those white wigs look familiar to you, luv?" Jack asked, standing just behind Elizabeth, waiting impatiently for her to return his telescope. He wasn't used to not being directly in control and it made him anxious, to say the least. He did have to admit though, if he was going to be second-in-command to anyone, he was glad Elizabeth was that someone.

"Quite a few of them actually," she said, sighing. She lowered the telescope from her face and handing it back to Jack. "James has been watching me."

"She's gainin' speed," Gibbs observed. "Shall I give the orders, Jack?"

"No…" he replied slowly, rubbing his chin. "Seems we have somethin' they want and they won't risk an attack until they have it secured safely away." Jack leaned into Elizabeth, squeezing her shoulder. "Just as ye said, darlin'." He turned back to Gibbs. "Tell the crew to hold fire but remain at their stations. I won't have us fallin' victim to a surprise ambush."

"Aye, Capt'n." Gibbs nodded nervously and disappeared from sight, barking orders as he went.

"You've been awfully quiet since I let you come out here," Jack said, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's waist, pulling her snuggly against his chest. "Don't be afraid, luv. Yer not goin' anywhere, count on that."

"I'm not afraid," she said quietly, leaning into him. "I just… James will want to negotiate. I need to be prepared. The prize of said-negotiation will be me, after all."

"Yer not a prize to be won, Lizzie. I wouldn't dream of bartering you away."

Elizabeth stood silently in his embrace, closing her eyes and pretending that both of them were far, far away. She was snapped from her pleasant reverie, however, at Gibbs' warning of a longboat approaching. Jack promptly released her and peered over the rail, making a face and muttering something bitter under his breath before begrudgingly ordering Gibbs to welcome their _guests _aboard.

"Stay behind me," Jack hissed to her, forcing a charming grin on his face as Commodore Norrington, Lieutenant Gillette and two other higher-ups began to climb aboard. Elizabeth wanted to grab onto him, to revel in his warmth and the safety she felt when she was near him. But she forced her arms to remain at her sides, willed her composure to stay strong. She stood there, feeling like her stomach was about to drop straight to the deck, as James appeared on deck. Immediately they locked eyes, and immediately she wished they hadn't. She tore her gaze from his and, forgetting about her composure as she reached for Jack's jacket sleeve, holding on tightly. At least it made her feel better…

"Ah, Commodore Norrington, sir," Jack greeted in an overly-dramatic voice once he was face-to-face with James. He bowed just as dramatically, a smirk plastered across his chiseled features. "So lovely to see you again."

"Sarcasm noted, Sparrow," James replied with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. He looked around, clearly unsettled. "And the feeling's mutual."

"Shall we, then?" Jack extended his arms towards his cabin, gearing for the inevitable.

"I'd like a word with Miss Swann." James forced a curt smile on his face. "If you'd be so kind."

"I wouldn't," Jack shrugged. "So sorry."

"Jack?" Finally finding her voice, Elizabeth edged closer, standing beside Jack instead of behind him. "It's alright."

He frowned, but with the gentle urging in her eyes, he nodded. "You two alone, no one else," he said, angling his face in Norrington's direction though not looking at him directly. "Not my men, not yours." He paused, turning back to Elizabeth. "If you're not done in fifteen minutes..."

"You have full permission to barge in," she replied, laughing slightly. "This way?" Her voice was hesitant and she knew it, even though she hadn't intended it to be. James nodded slightly, his expression softening dramatically as he followed her towards Jack's cabin.

The walk was silent and uncomfortable, but she surmised it was better than ridiculous small-talk. She let him enter first, turning away from him only to shut the door. When she turned back around, he was facing her, watching her intently. "Thank God, Elizabeth," he said, letting out a deep sigh. He took a few steps towards her before stopping, clearing his throat as if remembering who they both were. "Are you… alright?"

"Yes, I am fine," she told him, standing against the door, making her discomfort clear.

"Has he…" James trailed off, but she was glad he did. _Has he… hurt you? _She knew what he was going to say.

"No. He's been wonderful and respectful and kind." She could see her words made _him_ uncomfortable, but she needed him to hear her. "James, I…" She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. For the Dauntless to have caught up with the Pearl already, she knew that James hadn't stuck around in Port Royale long enough to receive the letter she wrote him and sent in Tortuga. She wondered if he'd stil be here if he had. "You must know I am here by my own wishes. And I have no intentions of returning to Port Royale. You cannot take my freedom from me."

"Elizabeth…" His eyes averted hers, as if what he was about to say truly did anguish him. "Your father and I can arrange a pardon on your name, but—"

"No," she interrupted. "Me _and _Jack or you take me in shackles."

"Elizabeth, I cannot make room for argument. Your association with pirates has—"

"What? Am I now a pirate by association? Then why are you here?" she asked, her voice growing cold. "Was your purpose _not _to negotiate, then? Jack and I both, or none at all," she repeated. "It's your choice."

"I'm afraid I don't _have_ a choice," he replied, his voice solemn and quiet. Elizabeth swallowed hard and she wondered if the sound of her heart breaking was as loud to him as it was to her. She doubted it. "Elizabeth, I'm—"

"Please. Please don't say you're sorry." She closed her eyes. She opened them, sucking down a deep breath, forcing the tears back. "May I request one last favor?"

"Of course. Anything." His answer was a bit too rushed and he knew it, judging by the uncomfortable shift of his position.

"The Azores are only a few hours away," she said quietly. "Could you… could you please? Just allow me this short amount of time to say goodbye. I promise. The Pearl will follow you there and once we make port… please, James?"

"Elizabeth…" He was unsure and she knew it. She had to find a way to persuade him.

"Please?" She willingly let go of her resolve, allowing the tears to dribble down her cheeks, smiling sweetly at him. "You can trust me, James. We won't run."

James was silent for several long moments before nodding uncertainly. "Very well." Doing a splendid job at hiding his emotions, he brushed past her towards the door, only stopping to turn and face her once it was open. When he did speak, his voice betrayed him, for he truly sounded broken and defeated. "Shall I… send him in, then?"

Elizabeth nodded weakly. "Please." Once he was gone, she frantically wiped the tears from her cheeks, desperate to hide them before Jack arrived. He arrived quicker than she anticipated, however, and she looked up when she heard his boots enter the cabin.

"You've been crying," he said, his voice low and flat, clearly angry. He walked to her, gripping her upper arms with both his hands and urging her to look at him. "What did he say, Lizzie?"

"Has he left?" She hoped he had, for she could not bear to face him again. It wasn't because she was upset with him... she knew he was just doing his job. She just knew that should she see him again in the next few minutes, she would _really_ lose her resolve and then her plan would be done for. James had been so blinded by his feelings for her and she knew it, which made taking advantage of those feelings a very easy thing to do. She just wished she hadn't had to... that things had been different. But things weren't different and Jack had done so much to protect _her_. Now it was her turn to return the favor.

"Beg pardon?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Did he leave? Go back to the Dauntless?"

"Aye…" He was clearly confused, but her tear-stained cheeks prompted him to worry about Norrington later. "What did he say to you?" he repeated.

"It's not what he's said to me," she sniffled. "It's what I've said to him."

"Lizzie?"

"We are to follow the Dauntless towards the Azores. I have agreed… I've agreed to meet James there where he will take us into custody," she spat out, her throat feeling tight, her head light and dizzy. Jack remained silent, his gaze falling from her face. After several moments of deep, serious thought, his face scrunched up.

"The pursued are to follow their pursuers?" he asked.

"I asked him to trust me," she said. "How's the weather?"

"Worsening by the minute," Jack answered, his voice soft as he slowly caught on. "We'll follow her an' gradually lose speed. By the time she catches on, the wind will be to our advantage and we can outrun 'er."

Elizabeth nodded before more tears fell down her cheeks. "Oh, Jack, I feel so awful… he cares for me so much and… and…"

"Bein' a pirate isn't always as easy as it looks, is it?" he asked softly. "Listen to me, darlin'. It may not be right by their standards, but it's right by ours. What you did tonight saved an entire crew and I can guarantee you they'll not soon forget it. And _I _won't ever forget it, I promise you that."

"You were right, Jack," she said, her voice heavy and saturated. "He's determined to see you hang. I couldn't let him… if lying to him… I couldn't let you…" She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut as she gathered her thoughts. When she opened her eyes again, he was smiling at her warmly and she knew exactly what to say. With a real threat of danger hanging over them like an ominous, black rain cloud, she knew she had to say it. It couldn't wait any longer. "I love you, Jack."

His smile broadened and he leaned towards her, weaving his hands into her hair as he kissed her, long and soft and smooth. "Oh, luv," he whispered when he pulled back. "I love you too, Lizzie, an' I promise… I'll be worthy. I'll do right by you."

"You already have," she told him, burying her face in his neck.

"Lizzie," he breathed. "My clever little she-pirate. You've done me proud, luv."

"At least one of us is proud," she said, chuckling lightly.

"It _will_ get easier, I promise," he told her. "Now smile for me, Lizzie. We've a brave front to put on and a ship to outrun. Are ye ready?"

"Yes," she said, instinctively obeying him and smiling. "I'm ready."

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**A/N: **Well, that's it for this chapter. I stayed up really late last night so I could finish it, so I hope you guys liked it!

I probably won't update before Friday, so in case I don't, Happy Halloween, everyone! BE SAFE and enjoy your candy!

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you all next time!


	21. Confessions of a Pirate

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**21—Confessions of a Pirate**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Thanks so much for the reviews, they mean a lot to me. I certainly didn't think I would have this chapter up today (I was up until the wee hours of the morning watching the news), but something about sitting in my biology class brings the writer out in me. I was also pretty depressed because a proposition I was staunchly against passed here in California, and I was determined to be dramatic and moody all day, but oh well. Thinking about Capt'n Jack makes things _slightly_ better. :)

I would like to dedicate this chapter to my dad for always being the best father any girl could ask for (a total cliché, but true). Happy birthday, daddy, I love you!

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The commodore's cabin aboard the Dauntless was not as grand as the captain's cabin, nor as large, but it was still perfectly generous and comfortable. It was more than satisfactory for a man far away from home, but on this particular night it was cold, dark and unwelcoming. The ship's gentle rocking against the ocean waves should have been enough to lull him to sleep, as it had on nights gone by, but he found himself completely unable to resign to any form of rest or relaxation. He had changed into his night clothes and climbed into his bunk before his worried mind and unsteady nerves prompted him to get back up again. He put his uniform back on, absent only was his hat, and paced anxiously around the room, envious of the captain's cabin. The captain's window face the following ship, at least. He found himself sitting uncomfortably at his desk, the space barely illuminated by a single cabin, with his head in his hands. The countless "what-ifs" and "maybes" devoured his thoughts like a plague and no matter how he tried, they would not dissipate. He was completely and utterly consumed by Elizabeth Swann.

That… _that_ was what was so frustrating. The Elizabeth Swann he had always known, the one he had fallen in love with, the one who was _supposed _to be his bride, did not exist anymore. Soon enough, she would be safely aboard the Dauntless, but he knew she wouldn't arrive as the governor's daughter that he was familiar with. No matter what happened once they returned to Port Royale, whether they continued with their wedding plans or went on to live completely separate lives, she would not be the same. And all he could think about was how it was _his _fault, how he was responsible. He had been her fiancé, for crying out loud! She had been so troubled, felt so trapped, that she saw her only way out as running away from her home and all who cared about her. With pirates, no less.

Why had he not been able to see it? With all the time they had spent together, why had he been so blind to her unhappiness? He had sensed, on more than one occasion, that something, but he had always been able to blame it on trivial things, on other emotions. He grew up with several sisters, he knew firsthand how mysterious women were, how their moods seemed to be in constant fluctuation. But regarding Elizabeth, he had been wrong, so wrong, and he felt like a fool.

Still, despite knowing that Elizabeth was not the same woman she once was, he trusted her inherently. He still had faith in her kindness and honesty, that the morals her father had raised her with were still intact, that the influence of the criminals she had been associating with had not yet rubbed off on her. He had faith that their agreement to meet in the Azores was a solid one. She would not lie to him. Why would she be deceitful when he had already promised her immunity? Why, indeed. A small voice of doubt was beginning to grow louder, as much as he tried to suppress it. Thinking about her and that… that _pirate_… Considering all she had previously done for the man, he found himself wondering if he had made a huge mistake. She was clearly not in love with _him_, as painful as that realization was, and her resolute tendency to rush to Sparrow's defense made him feel so small in the other man's shadow. She must have trusted him a great deal in order to run off with him, and her refusal to accept a pardon unless he, too, got one… He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, realization hitting him so hard, his chest actually hurt.

There was a brief, loud knock on the door before it swung open. The hurried footsteps and incoherent, nervous mumbling indicated that it was Lieutenant Gillette, and he instinctively knew what he was going to say.

"Pardon the intrusion, commodore."

"That's…" James took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his temples before opening his eyes to look at him. "That's quite alright, lieutenant. What is it?"

"The Black Pearl, sir," Gillette said breathlessly. "She's changing course. It appears she's making a run for it." James sat silently, his eyes fixed like stone on the floor. All his thoughts seemed to come between to a screeching halt. "Commodore?" Gillette took a cautious step forward. "Orders, sir?"

James looked up. "Damn." Despite how much he still cared for Elizabeth and how much he surmised he would _always _care for Elizabeth, he knew what had to come next. He was still a man of the law, a law he had sworn to uphold, no matter the consequences. "Rouse the captain immediately," he firmly instructed, rising from his seat. He grabbed his hat from the desk surface before turning slightly and grabbing his coat from the chair, slinging it over his shoulders and sliding his arms through the sleeves. "Prepare the crew for pursuit," he continued, brushing past Gillette on his way out the door.

"Pursuit, sir?" Gillette echoed, following him out on deck. Large portions of the crew were gathered around the railings of the ship, chattering loudly about the blaringly apparent turn the Pearl had taken.

"I take it by your tone, lieutenant, that you have an objection?" James replied dryly, dodging up the stairs to the quarterdeck two at a time.

"The weather, commodore!" Gillette practically shouted, his eyes glancing up to the skies. James eyes followed those of the lieutenant. Judging by the time displayed on the clock in his cabin, the sun should have already made its appearance over the horizon, but whatever attempt it had made, it was buried underneath the onslaught of ominous, black and gray clouds. The gentle rocking he had once been soothed by was far from gentle now and several crew members were visibly holding on to the railings to keep from being knocked off their feet. By the look of the skies, it would be raining soon, and the wind was increasing rapidly.

"The weather is unfortunate," James said quietly, causing Gillette to strain just to hear him. "But so is Sparrow's decision to run." He might have known that Elizabeth was likely the brains behind the plan, but as long as the blame was deflected onto Jack, she could retain her immunity and be safe from prosecution.

"Commodore, lieutenant!" Both men looked up to see Lieutenant Groves shakily making his way up the stairs towards them. "Pardon the interruption, but I've just spoken with the quartermaster." He paused as a violent gust blew over the ship, causing her to rock back and forth. Groves grabbed the rail, preventing himself from tumbling over. "He informs me the wind is nearing 60 knots, sir, and increasing steadily!" he shouted to James. "He recommends heading on to the Azores and taking safe harbor until the storm passes."

"If we keep heading forward, we'll lose them," James objected.

"But sir, if the wind reaches 73 knots—" Gillette started, but James cleared his throat. He knew the end of that sentence. _If the wind reaches 73 knots, a storm becomes a hurricane. _

"I will remind you, Lieutenant Gillette, of the promise I made to Governor Swann to bring his daughter home safely. If we lose sight of the Black Pearl, we could very well lose sight of her for good and I will not allow that to happen," he said firmly, making sure to maintain eye contact to strengthen his point in a calm manner before getting angry.

"But sir—"

"Did I not instruct you to rouse the captain?" James asked loudly, his voice sharp and unforgiving, leaving no further room for argument.

"Yes, sir." Gillette nodded slightly before disappearing from sight. Groves followed, as if afraid or intimidated to be alone in the presence of his superior officer. James watched them go, almost sorry for losing his temper the way he did (something that rarely happened). His thoughts soon returned to the matter at hand, however, and he turned around, watching the wind carry the Black Pearl, and Elizabeth, farther and farther away from him.

He felt a light ping on his shoulder, felt wetness on his face. He looked up towards the dark skies as the clouds opened up and it started to rain.

* * *

Elizabeth's hands shook as she took to her duties, though she wasn't sure if it was from the cold rain that had started to fall or from the nervous anxiety that swept through her. The weather was poor before she had concocted the plan to outrun the Dauntless, but it had taken a sharp turn for the worse since then, sending the crew into a frenzied panic. With the change in the ship's direction, the wind was now at her advantage, but there was no clear indication that she would make it out completely unscathed. The Pearl's heading was northeast into the Mediterranean Sea. Morocco or another place off Africa's coast were the most obvious selections, Jack had argued, and the Mediterranean offered a plethora of free ports and sheltered coves to hide in.

She knew she should be happy. She had so many reasons to be. At this point in time, outrunning the Dauntless seemed inevitable as the larger ship took the time to slow down so she could turn around and pursue. Her freedom seemed more attainable now than it ever had been before. And most importantly? Jack. A terrible fear had been squandered upon telling him that she loved him. Hearing him say it back was more beautiful than she ever thought it would be. She truly felt loved, too, for whether he knew it or not, he had proven his love and devotion to her long before ever telling her so.

Thinking about Jack alone put a smile on her face, made her feel warm inside despite the bitter cold, but everything else was surrounding her, crushing her, suffocating her, and she felt overwhelmed. The Pearl was on the edge of the storm, so to speak, and had a good shot of making it out safely. The Dauntless, on the other hand, would have to travel straight through it to catch up to them, putting James, a man she still cared about no matter what she had done to make him think otherwise, in direct danger. A big part of her screamed at her to urge Jack to turn the ship around, that they had to help them, but she knew they couldn't. Such an action would put them all in danger, a risk she knew they couldn't take.

The rain poured down now, water running down her face, soaking her to the bone. She tightened her grip, struggling to tighten her section of rope, when a flash of lightning startled her. Instinctively, her eyes darted up towards the quarterdeck, where Jack was at the wheel. He looked so majestic at the wheel, like he truly belonged there. No one else could handle the Black Pearl the way _he_ could, and she knew that no captain could ever love this ship the way he did. With that thought, her mind flashed to the conversation they had been having before Gibbs informed them of the presence of the Dauntless.

She knew, from legend alone, that Jack had mysteriously acquired the Pearl several years ago. Yet Jack had told her personally that the ship had belonged to his mother, following such a statement by telling her that the Pearl had been lost in a storm… _All it took was one storm and it all went to hell… captain always goes down the ship._ How could Jack be sailing a ship that he himself told her had sunk to the depths of the ocean? Somewhere there was a discrepancy and she was determined to figure out what it was. But that would have to wait until later.

With a loud rumble of thunder and another flash of lightning, the ship pitched and Elizabeth lost her grip on the rope. She let out a yelp, panicked, and grabbed onto it again as it slid through her palms. She hissed in pain, instantly feeling the burn of the rope against her skin. She refused to let go, though, determined to hold her own.

"Let go!" A warm, strong voice suddenly sounded in her ear and she whipped her head around to see Jack, suddenly behind her. Her eyes widened and he only smirked. "Let go, Lizzie," he urged. He reached above her arms and took hold of the rope. She watched as his muscles visibly flexed under the wet cling of the clothing on his arms, securing the rope in a seemingly effortless manor. Not for the first time that night, she stood, simply in awe of him. Her eyes flashed towards the quarterdeck to see Gibbs at the wheel, the only other person she wagered that Jack would allow to steer the Pearl under such conditions.

"Jack?" Her eyebrows went up and she instinctively went to reach for his face when she noticed him shake slightly from the cold. When her fingers just barely touched his cheek, she winced in pain and recoiled, looking at the palm of her hands where the flesh was red and torn and starting to bleed.

"Lemme see, Lizzie," he said loudly over the rage of the storm, pulling her hands towards his. He frowned before rubbing her knuckles gingerly with the pads of his fingers, releasing her hand to let it fall back to her sides. "I'm releivin' you of yer duties, Miss Swann. Back to the cabin with ye."

"Jack—!" She huffed in protest before he shook his head and shot a finger up to her lips, stopping her.

"Ye haven't slept in nearly a day, darlin'," he reminded her, her thoughts drifting back to the previous night, lying in bed with him, just laughing and talking… no sleeping…

"Neither have you," she retorted.

"M'used to it," he shrugged. "Come on."

Elizabeth went to argue, but she was too exhausted, as if his words had some sort of magical command over her senses. She nodded, reveling in the simple comfort she got from the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, allowing him to lead her towards their cabin. Once inside, she felt able to let go of the tension in her body and letting out a deep breath she hadn't been fully aware she was holding. She immediately turned to face Jack, watching for a few moments as he shook the water out of his thick mane of hair.

"We should be outside," she said quietly.

"What for?" Jack replied with a smirk, shrugging his wet jacket off his shoulders, letting it land on the floor with a squelch. "This lil' storm might seem big an' fierce, luv, but to them, it's nothin'. Me crew's handled worse than this before, much worse." She stood still, watching him as he sashayed across the room and pulled a blanket out of the cupboard by the window. He walked back to her, draping it around her shoulders.

"It looked fairly awful to me," she replied, pulling the edges of the blanket, desperate for the warmth.

"Well, we got lucky," he admitted, his eyes averting hers for a brief moment. "I'd hate to be on the Dauntless, though." He looked back to her to see her eyes wide and fearful, her mouth slightly open. "That was stupid of me. M'sorry."

"Captain Jack Sparrow apologizing?" She smiled softly, trying to push away the negative thoughts and replacing them with positive ones.

"I know, unheard of." He shrugged his shoulders, guiding her over towards the bunk. "Norrington's a smart man, as much as it pains me to admit it. He won't do anythin' stupid, luv. They'll be alright."

"But we saw the ship turning around…" she reminded him, sitting down on the bed.

"No, we saw them _slowing_ down and _changing _direction. We can't say for certain their actions were in pursuit."

"And we can't say for certain they weren't."

"Luv, relax. Either way, there's nothing what can be done about it now. Breathe." She did as she was told and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths as she felt Jack take her hands again, examining them closer this time. She didn't open her eyes to look at him until she felt him release her and heard the ripping of the sheets beside her. She said nothing, allowing her thoughts to mingle and swirl in her mind, as he bound her hands with the two thin strips he had torn.

"Jack…?"

"Mm?" He didn't look up as he tied off the first bandage.

"You said the Pearl belonged to your mother?"

"Aye."

"And that she went down with her ship in a storm?"

Jack stopped what he was doing and sighed, leaning back slightly. "I knew this would come up again," he said, adding quietly, "as it should." He sighed again. "Lizzie, if you were anyone else, I'd be dancin' around this… tryin' to find a way out of tellin' you the truth. But I worry that if ye don't know the truth you'll be worse off for it. Ye need…" His eyes darted away from hers. "Ye need to be prepared, luv." He could feel his heart rate increase as he thought about it, realizing he was about to tell her what he was about to tell her.

He loved her. When he told her he did earlier, he wasn't lying. But he was genuinely afraid, afraid for Elizabeth and what might happen to her should she fall into the wrong hands. Jack had never been one to admit fear before, but once again, Elizabeth was the exception to the rule. Being honest with her was far easier than being honest with anyone else, for with her he didn't feel the judgment and ridicule he was so used to feeling with others. And he genuinely felt that telling her the truth, no matter how it might upset her or make her hate him, she was better off.

"Jack…?" Her brow furrowed. "Prepared for what?"

"What do you know about Davy Jones?" he asked, his voice becoming quiet and solemn. Elizabeth paused and thought for a few moments before shrugging and shaking her head, indicating that she knew nothing. "He's more'n just a legend," Jack explained. "If I had any way to describe 'im, I'd say he's the devil in human…" he grimaced. "…rather, fish, form."

"I don't understand…"

"That's another story," he said, waving his hand. "All you need to know is that he's very real and very powerful and very dangerous." The formation of his words was so careful and slow, unlike how she had ever seen him before.

"Jack… you're scaring me. What does Davy Jones have to do with any of this?" Elizabeth asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"I made… well, I sort of…" Jack waved his hands around in circles, clearly hesitant. "Remember I told ye that I was young an' stupid when me mother died?"

"Yes… get to the point, Jack." She folded her arms across her chest, truly worried.

"Thirteen years ago, I made a deal with 'im," he said quickly, his eyes instantly dropping away from hers. He exhaled deeply, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

"And…?" She rose to her feet, looking down at him with wide eyes. Something deep in her gut told her she would not like the answer in the slightest bit.

"And… in exchange for a very small and mostly insignificant gift from me that I may or may not actually have to _give_ Jones… he raised the Pearl from the depths so I could be her captain for a period of time. Like me mum always talked about." He clapped his hands together and smiled broadly. "So hey, everybody wins, eh?"

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. When she spoke, it was in a smooth, calm voice. "Jack. I am going to ask you this once and only once." She paused, opening her eyes to see him smiling at her nervously. "What _exactly_ did you promise Davy Jones?"

"Well…" He wrung his hands together. "That's dependent on _exactly _how specific you wish me to be."

"I wish for you to be specific," she said strictly. "_Very _specific."

"Hegetsmesoulandahundredyearsofservitudeaboardhisship." Jack said quickly and quietly, barely audible, but just audible enough.

"Wh… _what?_"

Jack chuckled.

"You promised him your _soul_?!" Elizabeth shouted. "And a hundred years of servitude?! What were you thinking, Jack?!" She stomped forward and shoved him back, wincing with pain at the effort her hands gave. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, reminding herself that this was _Jack Sparrow_ she was talking to. "Never mind," she uttered. "I take it you've already concocted some elaborate scheme to get yourself out of this?"

"As a matter of I have," he replied, smirking and rising to his feet. "I've concocted a brilliant plan for _us_ to get me out of this."

"How kind of you," she replied, making sure that the sarcasm in her voice was blaringly apparent. "Well I assume we have more than enough time to carry out this plan. You said your deal was made with Jones thirteen years ago? How much time did he give you?" When he didn't answer and shifted his gaze away from her, she instinctively knew why, though she wished she didn't. "Jack…"

"He gave me…" Jack trailed off, took a deep breath, and with all the sincerity he could muster, looked her directly in the eyes. "Thirteen years."

"Jack—"

"I didn't worry about it before because I didn't have much to worry about," he quickly interrupted. The expression on his face softened and as much as she wanted to be furious with him, she felt her insides melting. "M'sorry I didn't tell ye before. I should have. Just goes to show you how quickly feelings change, eh luv?"

"Jack…" Her voice was barely audible, even to her. "What do we do?"

"Jones has a weakness, just like anyone else. We work on finding that weakness and go from there." He paused, bringing his hands up her arms and squeezing lightly. He leaned into her and kissed her, her lips feeling like soft pillows against his own. "But there's nothing we can do about that now. Right now ye need sleep. An' don't worry about the storm, ye know I wouldn't leave them out there alone if I didn't trust 'em. An' judging by the lack of rockin', I'd say we're coming out of it. Just like you planned us to."

"I'm worried for you, Jack," she said softly. "What happens if we lose?"

"We won't, Lizzie," he assured her, smiling. "We won't. We're an unbeatable team, you and I. I and you. _Us._"

"Jack?"

"Aye?"

"Thank you for telling me," she whispered, leaning into him, allowing her head to rest against his chest. "Your honesty means more to me than you realize."

"You can trust me, luv," he told her. "Ye know that, right?"

"Yes," she replied, sighing contentedly. "I know I can trust you."

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**A/N: **Thanks so much for reading, now go review! I hope you liked it!


	22. The Next Step

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FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

**22—The Next Step**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, everyone! You're all very sweet to keep coming back and reading this story. I'm glad you're still liking it. Enjoy!

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It was hardly a surprise that Jack had managed to get himself into trouble (again)… the kind of trouble that could prove completely disastrous and possibly even deadly if his planning and scheming didn't go the way he wanted it to. Yes, it was hardly surprising, but that made it no less disturbing. He always seemed to have a way out of everything, a way to become unstuck from even the stickiest of situations, but what would happen if even the great Captain Jack Sparrow fell, just like everyone else?

Elizabeth tossed and turned in their bunk, a most uncomfortable headache spreading between her eyes and seeping into her temples. The rocking of the ship, which had only grown more and more turbulent in the few hours that she had been inside, did very little to qualm her uneasiness and she knew that relief would not find her anytime soon. Jack had left her in their cabin, too tired and too cold to argue with him. Despite her shivering, she managed to find some dry clothes and crawled deep under the bunk's sheets and blankets, curling into a ball in an attempt to get warm.

As much as Elizabeth tried to focus on falling asleep, actually getting some rest as Jack told her to do, the task was much easier said than done. Her mind was as volatile as the raging storm outside, a bevy of different thoughts, worries and fears swirling around and colliding to create nothing short of paranoia. She knew very little of Davy Jones, but what she did know was that he was said to be ruthless, cruel and cunning, a man who found pleasure in the pain of others. The thought of Jack, a man she had fallen in love with against all odds and managed to stay in love with despite the opinions of others… the thought of him going head to head with such a man, his odds of winning completely unpredictable, was frightening. What would happen if he was unable to barter his freedom, to break away from this incredibly stupid sentence he had managed to bind himself to? She knew Jack to be a master of words and that his negotiating skills were unrivaled, but the debt he owed was such that she was left feeling unsure of her lover's fate. She liked to think of Jack as some incredible enigma of a God-like status, for his luck made him seem that way, but she knew that, ultimately, he was still human. She knew that what she felt for him had to be nothing short of love, for the fear she was experiencing on his behalf was a fear she had never felt before, for herself or anyone else. She knew the days that followed this shocking revelation would be consumed by thoughts of saving Jack, or at the very least, doing everything in her power to help him save himself.

Elizabeth rolled onto her side and buried her face in the warm pillow. She took several deep breaths, breathing in Jack's scent. Thinking about him brought on a fresh wave of panic, fearing that someday soon, his scent would be all she had left of him. No. She could not, _would _not let that happen. She would not let Jones win. If freeing Jack from his debt made her an awful person in the eyes of the world, a deceitful, scheming pirate no better than the likes of Hector Barbossa, then so be it. She felt like she finally had something that was _hers_, something that she wanted to defend and protect with her life. She knew that Jack would do the very same thing for her and if she had to lie, steal and cheat to save him, she would do so gladly.

With a forceful rock of the ship, the lantern on the washstand came crashing to the ground, the frame bending slightly and the glass panes shattering into hundreds of little pieces. She was left in total darkness, the sunlight completely hidden by a hoard of dark gray and black rainclouds. She sat straight up in bed, her thoughts of Jack and his ominous debt to Davy Jones shifted back to the immediate matters at hand. She felt so useless, like such a waste, sheltered away in the security of the captain's cabin when the rest of the crew was outside braving the storm. She was now part of the Pearl, just the same as they were. Why shouldn't she be out on deck protecting and defending her ship, _her home_, from the elements just as the rest of the crew was? Just because she was a feeble woman? She was still determined to prove that she was just as capable as the rest of them, that she wasn't just another spoiled socialite. She threw the covers off her, shivering involuntarily as the cool cabin air hit her nearly-bare legs.

In a matter of minutes, she had found some of Jack's dry clothes, for her one and only outfit was still nowhere near being anything other than completely soaked. His shirt and breeches were too big for her, as she knew they would be, but they would suit her just fine. They'd have to. She would have to endure the discomfort of her wet shoes, for Jack's only pair of footwear were nowhere other than on his feet. In one sense, it felt like a violation to Jack's uniqueness to be wearing his clothes. However, in another sense, it made her feel safely wrapped in him, like nothing could touch her. She tied her damp hair out of her face in a tight braid, fearing how it would irritate her sensitive scalp later, but knowing that having her hair away from her eyes was much more important. She couldn't allow any distractions when she was out there, especially when she was so determined to prove her worth in front of her new crewmates.

Elizabeth was appropriately dressed and accessorized when a wave of nervous excitement swept over her. This was the life she had signed up for, the life she had secretly wanted and dreamed about since her mother read her stories of piratical adventure as a little girl. It was not nearly as romantic as those stories were and it was nowhere close to being easy. It was actually (case-in-point) rather dangerous. But despite all that, it was still what she wanted. She strode towards the door, thinking to herself how the violent pitching of the ship had seemed to cease. She casually wondered if this was a new development or it her clouded thoughts had prevented her from noticing as she dressed. She reached the heavy wooden door and with a subtle smile of confidence, reached for the knob, taking unpleasant notice of how cold the metal was. She twisted the hardware in her hand, but it would not turn. Her cheeks started to burn with anger as she jimmied the knob over and over again, but still it wouldn't budge. It had been locked. From the outside.

"Jack Sparrow!" she screamed, pounding her fist on the door. A thousand insults flashed through her mind, causing her to go as far as to slam her shoulder (and subsequently, the bulk of her body weight) against the wood, but this action only resulted in a very sore shoulder. She turned back to face the interior of the cabin, muttering the most unladylike profanities she could think of as she rubbed her tender upper-arm with her hand. Her eyes darted back and forth between the nightstand, Jack's desk, and a large storage trunk beneath the window, wondering which was the most likely place where her _beloved_, infuriating, pigheaded captain would have hidden a key. At the very least, she was determined to find some apparatus in which she could pick the lock.

Elizabeth decided on Jack's desk and within the span of several seconds, the contents of the top drawer were spread out all over the desk's surface. Had she not been so anxious to get outside, she would have gladly examined each unusual object (each of which was uniquely Jack), but on this particular occasion, she found herself rummaging through them as if she didn't care. She had just tossed aside a bundle of exotic looking feathers when there was a heavy pounding on the door. She paused, curiously frightened, as the door swung open and a very wet and soggy looking Jack trudged through. She was left speechless and wide-eyed, watching as he kicked the door shut with his boot. He started to make his way across the room, glancing at her for only a brief moment as he left a trail of soaked articles of clothing and small puddles in his wake.

"Find what ye were lookin' for?" he asked, his voice low and indifferent.

Elizabeth swallowed, ignoring the pang in her chest at the sorry, pitiful sight he made, remembering that she was supposed to be cross with him. "How dare you!" she said loudly, crossing her arms. "You _lock_ me in here as if I am some strumpet in need of unnecessary protection and then march back in as if nothing has happened at all. I could have helped, Jack! You _know_ how I hate to be shielded!"

"Are ye quite finished, Lizzie?" he asked, the same tone in his voice. His back was to her as he stripped off his shirt, digging through the trunk for a clean, dry one. Elizabeth didn't really know what to say to that, and so she said nothing. "Truth of the matter is, I didn't lock you in here," he said. "The stupidest thing one could do is to lock another, especially an _important_ other, such as yerself, inside a cabin durin' a hurricane. Should the ship go down, precious moments are lost tryin' to save said-someone from said-cabin. It's like lockin' you in a jail cell with no key an' then tossin' ye a stick of dynamite." He paused, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "S'an old ship, luv, _all_ the doors stick when the weather's like this." He pulled the dry shirt over his head and then turned around to face her, smirking. "Next time, jerk the handle upwards and push the door out. Save this…" he motioned towards the desk drawer's contents, "…mess."

"Oh," she said, chewing her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she added quietly.

He shrugged. "I must admit, I admire yer determination." He went back to redressing himself, turning away from her as he let his pants fall to his ankles, reaching for a new pair. Elizabeth immediately felt herself blushing. True, this was not the first time she had seen Jack naked (or mostly naked, as the situation was), but she still felt young and naïve at the sight of his bare arse facing her. _Only Jack…_ she thought.

"What's going on outside, then?" she asked, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"We've made it through," he told her. Something inside her sank slightly, for she had been looking forward to the majestic sight of Jack at the wheel. There was something incredible and indescribable about seeing that man at the wheel of his ship, like anyone who looked upon him instantly knew that he was meant to be there. "The waves are still a right bit cranky and the wind is still unfavorably strong, but the worst is over. Nothin' that the crew isn't used to."

"I see." Elizabeth heard a whistle and her eyes shot up to Jack's face. He laughed when she did so, only causing her further embarrassment. "And what of the Dauntless?" she asked. "Did she make it through? Is she still in pursuit? How far off is she?"

"One at a time, luv," Jack said, waving his hand at her. He pulled out a large bottle of rum from one of the cabinets that flanked the window, effortlessly pulling out the cork and taking a large sip. Elizabeth's brow furrowed as she wondered how many bottles he had stashed around the room. He kicked his boots off as he swayed over to the bunk, flopping down and leaning against the wall. "The Dauntless is still in the eye of the storm," he admitted, his voice quiet.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, honestly fearful for the men aboard the other ship. They were supposed to be the enemy, for their intentions of capturing her and Jack was clear, but she still feared for James' safety. She still cared about him. She kept her eyes shut, listening as she heard the bunk creak under Jack's shifting body weight. She could hear his feet on the cabin floor and suddenly his arms were around her and she was flooded by him… his scent, his warmth, and the enduring comfort his arms brought her.

"Tell me yer thoughts, darlin," he urged.

"I can't even compose them," she confessed, allowing herself to lean into him and thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his chin resting atop her head.

"Allow me to compose them for you, then," he said, leaning back and grinning down at her. "Ye feel conflicted. Ye feel quite pleased to be out of the storm, yet quite discouraged knowin' that the Dauntless is still in the thick of it. Ye feel relieved to have the necessary lead to escape the good commodore, yet upset knowin' that ye may never see him again. An' ye feel content as you ever have been to be here with me, yet awfully guilty knowin' that ye hurt someone else to do so. An' let me tell ye, luv, it's alright for you to feel that way. It's perfectly normal an' acceptable. But if ye continue to do so for much longer, continue to live yer life frettin' over what you've done wrong instead of focusing on what you've done right… yer going to wake up one day and wonder where yer life went." Jack pushed Elizabeth back slightly so that he could look at her. He placed one hand on either of her shoulders. "Now ye might not realize this, Lizzie, but I for one am not willin' to let that happen to you."

"Thank you," she whispered, truly meaning it. She was so thankful to have him and to know that he genuinely cared about her. "Is there nothing we can do to help them?" she asked quietly.

Jack sighed, automatically giving her the answer she'd been looking for. "Helpin' them would involve turnin' the ship around," he told her. "Turnin' the ship around would bring us back into the storm and I'm not rightfully willing to put the crew in that kind of danger."

"If we go back, we not might make it out," she concluded. She closed her eyes again, forcing the thoughts of James and the Dauntless out of her head. Jack was right. She had to focus on other things. "So what about you?" she asked, successfully changing the subject. "What about Jones?"

"What about 'im?"

"Jack, I'm serious. What's our next step?"

"_Our?_" Jack stepped away from her then, returning to the bottle of rum he'd left on the floor beside the bunk. "This is not your problem, Lizzie, it's mine."

"Then telling me about it was the biggest mistake you've ever made," Elizabeth informed him, crossing her arms firmly across her chest. "I won't leave it alone, Jack, so don't tell me to."

"Tell you to?" Jack's eyebrows went up. "Lizzie, I wasn't planning on _telling_ you to do anything. Yer an adult, quite capable of makin' yer own decisions. I was simply going to _ask_ you to be careful. Barbossa is the only big bad you've faced in this world an' Davy Jones makes any experience with him look like a cakewalk."

"I understand." Elizabeth walked to the bunk and crawled on next to him, scooting down and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I have to admit, though," he said, "it's an honor to know that you think of it as _our_ problem."

Elizabeth chuckled softly. "I wouldn't think of it any other way." She took a deep breath. "So what do _we _do next?"

Jack groaned, as if he didn't want to think about it. "An old friend o'mine in Santorini has a habit of keepin' his ear low to the ground. Right now I need to focus on establishin' some leverage against Jones an' he's the first person I'll go to for more information."

"What can I do?" she asked, reaching behind him and wrapping her arm around his lower torso.

"Just be Lizzie," he told her. "Just be my Lizzie."

She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes. "I think I can manage that."

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for this chapter, folks! Thanks so much for reading, now go review!


	23. Hell's Gate

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**23—Hell's Gate**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for the lack of an update in the past (gasp!) two weeks, but with the semester winding down, bio had to take a front seat so I can finish with my GE and start with my major classes next semester. Yay! Also, the transition between CotBP and DMC has been more challenging to write than it might seem, but after this chapter, said transition will be complete, so hopefully updates will come more frequently now.

And just so you know when reading (you'll get it when you get there), "Peddyr" is pronounced "Peter." It's just a Greek variation of the name.

Thanks so much for your patience, I appreciate it more than you know!

* * *

Two restless days passed, in which the battered Pearl made her way through the Mediterranean Sea and on towards Santorini, as Jack had promised. The ship had sustained a fair amount of damage during the hurricane, but not so much that she needed immediate attention. She truly was a marvelously strong vessel and not for the first time, Elizabeth was mesmerized by her unspoken power. She could perfectly understand now why the Black Pearl was so well suited for Jack and vice-versa… both could, apparently, bounce back from just about anything.

The crew had faired pretty well also, which was quite miraculous, to say the least. It seemed that luck was on their side, which left Elizabeth feeling hopeful that whatever information Jack needed once they made port, it would fall into his hands easily. Her captain, however, seemed less convinced. He had never directly said he was concerned or even expressed his worry in an obvious way, but he remained mum on the subject, and remaining mum on _anything_ seemed highly unusual. Whenever Elizabeth brought up Jones, Jack conveniently found a way to change the subject shortly afterwards.

In those short 48 hours, Elizabeth noticed Jack spending more time inside his cabin than he ever had. She let him be, alone with his thoughts, out of the sheer desire to let him focus as much as he needed to. She didn't want to hover or crowd him, despite how terrified she was on the inside. She felt the need to provide a strong, stony exterior… surly if she remained calm, cool and collected, it would help him to feel the same. She knew it would for her had their positions been reversed.

Still, she found his absence at the wheel and his scarce appearances on deck and in the galley discomforting. Even though she purposely tried to distance herself from him, it didn't stop her from missing him. The night before Gibbs estimated the ship to arrive in Santorini, Jack was not seen outside _at all_, and Elizabeth found it more upsetting than it previously had been. Her whole body felt tense and awkward, her nerves on edge. She had always been one of those people who liked to know what was in store, what to expect from certain situations, and not knowing what information awaited them ashore (be it good or bad), was awfully frightening.

She opened the cabin door quietly, so as not to wake him, should he be sleeping. He wasn't, though, and she had to admit, she had mixed feelings about that. At least she knew when he was sleeping, he was at peace, his worrisome thoughts far away. But with him being awake, her own selfishness was satisfied, for she would be able to soak up his presence the way she had been longing to.

She closed the door even more quietly than she had opened it, and he stood, unaware of her presence, at the window. His back was to her and he had stripped of all but his shirt and breeches. It was rare that even _she_ got to see him this way, without all the _stuff_ that composed his daily presence. And while she had no real preference to what he was wearing, for he would still be her Jack regardless, she found that she liked him this way. To her, it meant that he was unguarded and comfortable enough to be so in front of her. Even his ever-present bandana was missing from atop his head, tossed in the corner with the rest of his things. His dark hair hung all around his face now.

Elizabeth tip-toed her way across the dimly lit room, carefully avoiding the floorboards that she knew to be squeaky, and came up behind him. She found herself holding her breath as she snaked her arms through his, hugging him from behind. He jumped, only slightly, and while she was pleased that she'd been capable of sneaking up on the great Captain Jack Sparrow without him noticing, she was sorry for it at the same time. It indicated to her that he'd been so deep in thought, so consumed by it, that he been completely unaware of her. He said nothing, but she could feel the rigidness of his body relax slightly as she inched closer to him. She turned her face inwards, kissing his back through his shirt, and sighed contentedly when he leaned into her. A small part of her heart broke free just then, soaring out of the open window and into the sky, for that small gesture on his behalf meant more to her than either of them ever realized it would have. He felt safe with her, however nonverbally he expressed it, and that made her happier than she had been since the very first night he told her he loved her.

"There's some supper left in the galley, if you're hungry," Elizabeth said quietly, resting against him, her cheek pressed gently against his shoulder blade.

"M'not hungry," he replied, his tone casual and pleasant. She could not devise if it was a rouse or not, but it soothed her nonetheless.

"I figured you wouldn't be," she sighed. Her eyes fell to the floor, to the empty bottle beside his feet and she sighed again, almost disappointed though not surprised. "Though I would feel myself uncaring if I didn't ask." She paused for a few moments. "Jack?"

"Yes, luv?"

"Have you consumed anything other than rum today?"

Jack laughed, a low, throaty, warm laugh. "Yes, darlin'. An' besides, _that_ was only half-full when I started drinkin'."

"I see," she replied. She paused for another few moments, thinking offhandedly of his response. "Half-full," she said. "That's very optimistic of you, Jack."

He chuckled again. "Inadvertently. Though I suppose it is." He awkwardly reached behind himself, wrapping his arms around her as best he could, given their positions. He gave her forearms a light squeeze before pulling away from her and turning around, reversing their positions.

"Are you worried?" she asked, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against his shoulder.

"Slightly," he admitted, and she was thankful that he had. She _wanted_ him to confide in her. "Although…" he inhaled sharply before continuing, "…I'm worried only slightly and that worry is a result of the fact that I'm worried for the wrong reasons. Or perhaps the right reasons. Worrying is a tricky thing. I try not to do it often. Life's too short, after all, and I'd rather get me wrinkles from the sun as opposed to frettin' all day long."

Elizabeth laughed. She knew that no matter how cross she could ever become with Jack, she would never tire of listening to his twisted way of speech. "Well then what reasons are you worried for?" she asked gently, noninvasively.

Jack was quiet for several moments, his eyes shifting from her face to the floor. "M'not worried about me. I know I can take care of meself." While his answer might have been vague to some, it was perfectly clear to her… all she needed to hear.

"Don't worry about me," she whispered, turning around so that they were face to face now. She parted the folds at the neck of his shirt and kissed the skin over his collar bone, eliciting a very soft, almost inaudible purr from Jack. "I can take care of myself."

"Aye," he agreed, his eyes still avoiding her. "I've seen that with me own eyes. But as I've told you before, Jones is not like the other big and nasties you've faced, dearie. He has ways of gettin' to you that yer not prepared for an' I'm not prepared to prepare you for." His voice was solemn and quiet and it made her chest feel heavy. So, she would be honest with him, for she expected no less than the same treatment.

"It's alright," she soothed, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, turning his face towards her. He didn't resist but instead met her eyes with his own. He chewed his bottom lip nervously. The sight of him was pathetic, like a lost, little boy, frightened and in need of his mother. He was so un-Jack-like that it startled her and she found herself without words for a minute or so. "It's alright if you don't always know how to protect me. And you won't always be able to protect me, Jack. Despite what you might wish others to think and despite what you _yourself _might think sometimes, you're only human. But we'll learn from the mistakes we make and we won't let it happen again. You've gotten yourself out of more precarious situations than most people have _even been _in precarious situations, and that was just on your own." She let her fingers fall softly down his face, her fingernails lightly tracing his jaw. She didn't need to finish speaking. What was unsaid was quiet perfectly said. _We'll figure this out together._

Jack smiled, though only for a brief moment, before his face went solemn again. Back to business, of course. "Gibbs an' I concur that we'll make Santorini by mid-mornin' tomorrow. You should get some sleep, Lizzie."

"_We _should get some sleep," she corrected. He was about to protest when she grinned, placing a single finger over his lips before letting it dance down his chin, twirling around the braids that dangled there. "Silly pirate. You should know now that I have no intentions of sleeping on my own ever again."

Elizabeth said nothing as she began to undress, turning her back to him. She smiled to herself, fully able to feel the heat of his stare on her back as she climbed into bed.

Within five minutes, a grin on his face, Jack followed.

* * *

Santorini was one of the few free ports left in the Mediterranean, and Jack seemed visibly more relaxed as he left the Pearl in the hands of Gibbs and several other trusted crew members, whose main chore was to make the necessary repairs to the ship. They were promised extra rations of rum and extra shares of loot from whatever galleon would next fall victim to the mighty Black Pearl, which left their bickering of a lack of shore leave to a hushed minimum. The rest _were _allowed to go ashore, and they quickly dissipated amongst the streets of the Greek village.

On any other occasion, Elizabeth would have cherished her visit to such a foreign and beautiful place. The water was the most perfect blue and the skies made themselves the perfect companion with not a cloud in sight. She imagined getting happily lost in town, immersing herself in the culture of such a unique place. The people, the clothing… everything was so different to what she was accustomed to and she longed to discover more, to chat with the locals and learn their language and eat their food… but on this particular journey, there was only one objective in mind.

Jack kept a brisk pace in front of her but held onto her hand tightly, causing her to almost run to keep up with him. She tried not to look at her surroundings for too long for it would only make her want to stop and explore even more, but she knew now was not the time. As she and Jack stepped off the ship and onto the dock, he promised they would return when they had more time. She found his optimism comforting.

On the way into town, he said very little about where they were going or who they were meeting, and she did not want to ask. Given their conversation the previous night, if Jack felt like he was keeping her safe by limiting the amount of details he gave her, then she would stay content with whatever he _did_ give her. She trusted his instincts entirely.

The farther they ventured into town, the narrower the streets became, and the seedier the people seemed to be. The people started to look less like local fishermen and their wives and more like pirates. Well, they must have been criminals of _some _sort, for Jack abruptly slowed his pace and drew Elizabeth closer to him. He snaked his arm around her waist possessively as they walked and when they passed an unsavory looking individual, she could feel the grip he had on her waist tightening. She found this change in his behavior endearing and upsetting at the same time.

He stopped suddenly and returned his grip to her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. "In here," he said quietly, leading her in to a poorly lit building, where the paint was peeling off the walls and there were jagged holes in the windows. A man was slumped against the wall, sleeping or quiet possibly dead judging by the uncomfortable position he was in, and they had to step over him to get inside. Elizabeth gulped nervously and tried not to stare at him as Jack ushered her in.

A strong sense of déjà vous washed over her when she got a good glimpse at the room. She was reminded of her trip to Tortuga and the Faithful Bride almost instantly. The tavern they had entered was sleepy, the atmosphere reflected in the few patrons. There was a group of four or five men playing cards in the table, whispering and muttering to each other when they noticed Jack and Elizabeth enter. A large, burly looking woman with enough cleavage to satisfy three smaller women was sitting at the bar, sharpening a knife on small stone. She didn't even look up as Jack, Elizabeth directly behind him, holding on to his sleeve, came to stand beside her.

"S'been a while," she said quietly, still not looking up from her work. Her accent was heavy and while Elizabeth couldn't place it exactly, she knew she wasn't a local. "That means ye need somethin'. So what'll it be, Sparra?" The woman finally looked up and grinned at Elizabeth, revealing several missing teeth. "Who's this?"

"A friend," Jack said quickly.

"So yer need won't require a back room visit, I see," the woman said lowly, returning her gaze to the knife and stone. Elizabeth tried hard not to grimace, thinking that Jack might have been intimate with such a woman (if you could call her that). "A room upstairs for ye then? Ye know what we charge." Elizabeth held in her sigh of relief at the notion that Jack had brought _other _women here. Strange how she found that a relief…

"Not today," he waved his hand. "Is he here?"

"PEDDYR!" the woman hollered, making Elizabeth jump. Her cheeks felt hot when she noticed the woman grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. "Peddyr!!"

Within a few brief moments, a short, stalky man with a mess of curly black hair and deep-set eyes appeared from behind the curtain that separated the bar from a back room. Upon seeing Jack, he smiled, revealing that he had several missing teeth as well. Jack would later tell Elizabeth that the pair were brother and sister. The resemblance was not hard to see.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," the man said, running a hand through his greasy hair as he walked towards them. He noticed Elizabeth and grinned. "Or is it _kitten_?" He took her hand and started to raise it towards his lips, but Jack was quick to clear his throat.

"Drop it," he said sternly. The man held his hands up in surrender. "Peddyr, this is Lizzie. Hands off. Lizzie, this is Peddyr. I doubt I need to give you the same warning."

"A pleasure, dear Lizzie," Peddyr said. His voice was rough and hoarse.

"Charmed," Elizabeth replied, trying her hardest to sound genuine.

"Well, what is it then?" Peddyr asked, turning his attention to Jack. "Ye usually only come to my side of town when ye want somethin'. A room for cheap, this time?"

"No," Jack shook his head and smirked. "I'm in need of yer reputation," he continued, lowering his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Yer not known as the rat of this rock for nothin', mate. No offense."

"None taken," Peddyr sighed, shrugging. "So its information ye seek."

"Aye."

Peddyr cross his arms and leaned back against the bar. "Well, what then?"

"I find myself in need of the type of information that _doesn't _require an audience, savvy?" Jack said. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather pouch, jingling it a few times to place emphasis on the coins inside. "The kind of information that a person such as yerself won't mind divulging once said-person has been properly compensated."

Peddyr leaned forward and rubbed his chin. "So I see…" He paused for a moment, his beady, greedy eyes fixed on the pouch in Jack's hands. "Shall we, then?" He bowed dramatically, leading them towards the back room.

* * *

The back room was a poor attempt at decoration in the Moroccan style. The walls were dirty and dingy and there was a small, shabby looking table sitting very low to the ground. Four large, flea-bitten pillows were gathered around it and there was an incense lamp hanging in the far corner. Peddyr motioned for Jack and Elizabeth to sit down, which they both did, after draping their jackets over the pillows first. Elizabeth subconsciously wondered if she would've contracted some kind of illness had she not taken such a precaution.

Jack tucked the pouch back in his jacket and both he and Elizabeth watched as Peddyr went to the corner of the room, pulling out an impressive looking pipe and using the small embers from a stick of incense to light it. Once he sat down, he offered it to both of them, and both refused.

"Alright, Sparra, what is it ye need?" Peddyr asked, his voice low.

Jack smirked. "I've succeeded in upsetting Jones."

Peddyr visibly gulped. "_Davy _Jones? Captain of the Flyin' Dutchman, Davy Jones?"

"The one and only," Jack confirmed.

"So I see now," Peddyr flexed his palm, trying to calm himself down. "I say it now and won't say it again. If ye succeed in angerin' him more, I'm to be left out of it, ye hear me?"

"Of course, of course," Jack waved his hand nonchalantly before leaning across the table, lowering his voice even still. "Does _it_ exist?"

"Does _what_ exist?" Elizabeth asked, leaning in closer to Jack.

"The chest," Peddyr said, smiling.

"The chest?"

"Ye see, Lizzie," Jack explained. "As legend has it, Jones was not always as he is now."

"Part fish, that is," Peddyr interjected.

"You mean he was once human?" Elizabeth asked, trying to suppress the growing excitement she felt. If Jones was once human, that meant he had his weaknesses, just like everybody else. Weaknesses meant he would be easier to defeat.

"Aye," Jack continued. "Until he had his heart broken, that is. Now dear ole' Davy, in an attempt to _never_ feel that way again, is said to have cut out his own heart and buried it on an island in the Caribbean, an island that he can't set foot on but once every decade. That little tidbit leaves it all alone and vulnerable, eh, darlin'?"

"And he who owns the heart owns Jones. He who controls it controls _him_. He who stabs it… kills 'im," Peddyr finished. "Sweet lil' bedtime story, isn't it?" he said, smirking, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Oh yes," Elizabeth swallowed, "lovely."

"So as I was askin'," Jack went on. "Is it true? Does it exist?"

Peddyr grinned a wide grinning, revealing again the vacant spaces where teeth once grew. "Of course it does," he said.

"You're certain?" Jack asked. "You'll understand that I don't wish to be sailin' all over the Caribbean in pursuit of a ghost."

"It exists," Peddyr nodded. "I'm willin' to bet me life on it."

"You better be," Jack muttered solemnly.

"I had a gent in here not more'n three weeks ago," Peddyr said, leaning in further still. "Was rantin' and ravin' about how he escaped Jones crew and he had the scars to prove it. And what else? He had a drawin' of the key."

"And what makes you so certain he was tellin' the truth?" Jack asked, his voice understandable wary.

"He told stories," Peddyr continued. "Stories that one could not imagine."

Jack was silent for a few moments before leaning back, clearly in deep thought. "And what of this gent? Where might I find him now?"

"Hauled off by the authorities," Peddyr said, leaning back as well. "Taken to prison."

"Which prison?" Elizabeth asked. She didn't have to sit and ponder to know that whichever prison he was sent to, it was Jack's next stop.

Peddyr grinned. "Cehennem kapı."

"Cehennem kapı?" Elizabeth repeated, struggling to say the phrase with the same accuracy as Peddyr. "Where's that?"

"Turkey," Peddyr continued.

"You'll have to get arrested to get in, won't you?" Elizabeth asked, turning to Jack, her voice sad. She didn't like the thought of Jack getting in trouble, but understand that if it had to be done, it had to be done. She would not fight him on it. But Jack did not answer. He only sighed heavily and leaned forward again, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Peddyr laughed.

"He'd be more daft than I thought he was if he's desperate enough to want to get into Cehennem kapı," Peddyr said, shaking his head.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Because," Jack explained, his voice quiet. "The men who go into Cehennem kapı don't ever come out. Alive, that is."

"Jack!" Elizabeth whispered loudly, forgetting all about not arguing with him.

"Ye want to know what Cehennem kapı is?" Peddyr chuckled, puffing on his pipe. Elizabeth was infuriated with him, unable to comprehend how this was _amusing _to him. She didn't respond, but only looked to Jack.

Jack looked back at her with dark eyes. _"Hell's Gate."_

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's it for this chapter! The transition into DMC is pretty much completed now, so the next chapter will hold some familiar territory, but I promise I will make it different enough from the movie so that we're not reading the same dialogue over and over again. So prepare yourselves for the Sparrabeth version of DMC!!

I had a hard time finding inspiration for this chapter, so I really hoped this chapter was enjoyable for all of you and that everyone had a great holiday yesterday! Thanks for reading, now go review! See you all at the next chapter!


	24. Meanwhile

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**24—Meanwhile…**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Thank you all so much for the reviews for the last chapter, I greatly appreciate it.

I want to apologize now for not updating as frequently as I used to and explain some extenuating circumstances. First of all, the writing world has been pretty quiet for me. People don't seem to review as much as they used to, which indicates a lack of interest in the story, which makes me feel like it is less necessary to update as frequently as I used to. Nonetheless, I promise to keep writing this story, as I am very pleased with it, and update as often as I can.

Second of all, my family was just hit with the news that our 10-year-old golden retriever, Sophie, has cancer. For the past week and a half, the poor girl has been in and out of the vet's office almost every other day, getting a biopsy from one person, a second biopsy from a specialist, and an MRI from someone else. She's having surgery next week to remove the growth that has been found, which means more than enough distraction on my part. We're not sure how much cancer there is (and won't know for a few more days) and therefore, don't know how much time she has left with us. If our worst fears are confirmed, I'll be taking a break from writing in general, only updating about once a month.

On top of all this, finals are next week and I'm teetering on the edge of passing in biology, which means lots and lots (and lots and lots) of studying are in my near future. Once I'm on Christmas break, I'll hopefully be able to get around to writing more. I have very definite plans for future chapters of FYEO, as well as an idea for a new oneshot to be called "An Unfortunate Twist of Fate," so keep your eyes peeled for that to be up sometime soon.

Again, I'm sorry for the delay, but I'm sure that, as most of you know, life has a way of screwing with your plans. This chapter is very short (a chapterette if you will), with the basic intention of describing what Will, Rosalind etc. have been up to in Port Royale since Lizzie went off to gallivant with pirates. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. I really hate leaving you with these short chapters, but I merely intended this chapter to be a much deserved update because you all are such wonderful, loyal readers.

If I don't update again before Christmas, I wish everyone and their families a very happy holiday. If you have any questions regarding the status of this story, please feel free to PM me. No, you won't be bothering me, I love hearing from you. :)

Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

This was the first time Rosalind had seen it rain in Port Royale. She stood, watching from the small window of Will's flat, as the skies opened up and the water came pouring down onto the streets below. It was so different from the England rain she was accustomed to, save for the gloom it brought. In England, it always felt so bitterly cold that it was a wonder that the rain hadn't frozen and become snow. Here, the temperature was still on the verge of being uncomfortably warm, the rain an unhelpful solution to the sweltering heat.

An unnoticed cup of tea sat on the table beside her, but she was too distracted to remember to drink from it. In reality, it had been such a short while since Elizabeth had sailed off with Jack, but nonetheless, time stretched on, making each day feel like an entire week had passed.

The fallout from her role in Elizabeth's escape was greater than she predicted. She always knew that her actions would come with consequences, but she never feared them.

However, it seemed that they very minute Elizabeth left, everyone in Port Royale knew about it. The soft hush of gossip that followed had steadily grown louder and louder. Some of what was said was an absolute fabrication. Some was surprisingly accurate. But in the end, the finger of blame was always directed at her and Will. That, she could deal with. She didn't care much about what people were saying behind her back. It was bothersome, however, that Elizabeth had automatically been branded a pirate, same as Jack. She and Will might as well have the "P" scar on their forearms, for they were already guilty by association.

A disgrace and embarrassment to her family, she was left in the Caribbean, watching from the docks as her father's ship sailed off without her. Governor Swann, always the kind and gentle man, agreed to let her stay in the mansion, but she couldn't bear to. He would never outright say it, but she knew he was angry with her, the reasons obvious. She was as honest as she could be. She truly didn't know where Elizabeth was, or where she was headed. But that didn't mean that even if she _did _know, she would tell him.

Will was quick to offer her a place to stay. He only had one large room to call his own, a space above the blacksmith's shop, with low ceilings and a dusty smell from the business below. But she found it undaunting and cozy, welcoming even. And Will was excellent company. She watched him work every day, even learning a few things about the trade herself.

Every night, as she crawled into bed, she would protest as she watched him make a spot on the floor. But her protests meant nothing, it seemed, for he'd always offer her with a smile and a gentle, "I don't mind." He was sweet and generous, content with his modest means, and she found herself falling a little deeper for him with each passing day. She couldn't help but hoping that maybe, just maybe, he might care for her the same way.

Despite his initial offbeat hostility, Governor Swann seemed to visit regularly, asking always if there was any news from his daughter. The answer was always the same though, and he always left with a polite smile on his face and the saddest eyes she had ever seen.

As for James Norrington, he immediately took off after the Black Pearl in a most disastrous and unsuccessful attempt at bringing Elizabeth home safely. No one really knew what had happened, though the rumors that followed effectively proved the boredom felt by the people of Port Royale… the ship was taken by Indian privateers, looted by Spanish pirates, captured by the French navy, swallowed by a giant sea beast, lost in a storm… every day, the story changed and grew more absurd. Whatever happened, a brief and un-detailed letter arrived, announced his formal resignation.

And so, she stood at the window, watching the street below as people ran from the storm, watching the rivulets of water dribble down the glass. She could hear Will pounding away at his anvil, hard at work, as always. Outside, yet not far away, she could hear the sound of horse hooves on the cobblestone. This was not an unusual sound and she didn't think much of it… until a calamitous crash sounded from below.

Rosalind immediately went to the narrow staircase and began to climb down, all the while frightened, listening to the shouting men. The sight that greeted her was a grim one, as two tall, lean men held both of Will's arms, a third clapping him in a pair of irons.

"What is the meaning of this?!" She shouted, rushing to Will's side, but a red-coated soldier stepped in her way.

"This man is under arrest," barked one of the soldiers.

"On what grounds?!" Rosalind cried, firmly placing her hands on her hips. There was a brief pause when the door swung open, a man of short stature and a smug disposition stepping in from the rain. He paid no one any mind as he shrugged off his wet overcoat, handing it along with his hat, to the man beside him.

"Conspiracy," he said, "aiding and abetting a wanted criminal…" He took several steps forward, peeling off his riding gloves one finger at a time. "Such crimes are to be considered treason against the crown." His voice was low and proper, almost too quiet for normal conversation. Rosalind knew who he was. She knew exactly who he was. His arrogance had been known to her through her parents' dinner parties and costumed balls… at one time, her father had even suggested him as a suitor. The man's eyes fell from Will to her. "Hello, Miss Avery. It's been too long."

"Not long enough," she growled, crossing her arms. "Who has ordered this, Cutler? I demand it."

"It's Lord Beckett now, actually." A subtle yet proud smile crossed his face. "Once the king was informed of this most grievous matter, he informed me that I was to do what I thought best. I am pleased to say," he cast a backwards glance at Will, "that I have fulfilled my duty." He swiftly motioned to a pair of soldiers behind him. "Arrest her."

"No!" Will shouted, breaking his stoic silence. Rosalind shrieked and resisted, yet was unable to evade the strength of the soldiers. "Rosalind had no hand in this, I am the one responsible," Will said loudly.

"No…!" Rosalind shook her head. "He's only lying to protect me!"

Beckett paused, his eyes shifting between the two of them. "Well, I have an amiable solution. Since neither of you can agree on who is to blame, you'll share it." He turned on heel, preparing his exit with a final order. "Take them away."

Rosalind's frightened eyes managed to catch Will's on the way out into the rain, the weather a strange metaphor for their presumed fate.


	25. The Compass

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**25—The Compass**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, guys! They really mean a lot to me. And thank you all so much for your kind words about Sophie. As it turns out, the cancer has spread to her lungs, spleen and a few other areas. The surgery she was scheduled to have would not prolong her life and would entail the removal of five (yes, five!) ribs, so we decided to spare her the pain. Her vet believes she has anywhere from a few days to a month, at most, left with us. She says she's not in pain, just tired.

I wanted to get another chapter up before the holidays, so consider this a Christmas present from me to all of you. Sorry if it's a little short, and sorry again for the lack of Jack'n'Lizzie, but I need to get some other stuff in Port Royale out of the way before continuing. Thanks again for the reviews (!), I cannot emphasize how they make me smile! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday.

* * *

Port Royale's one and only prison was a stark contrast to the island itself. Where Port Royale was sunny and bright, the prison was cold and damp, dark in most places, as the outside sunshine had difficulty spreading its warmth through the small windows. The welcoming coziness Rosalind had reveled in at Will's flat seemed so unattainable and far away. Even with him sitting beside her, she hardly felt safe. The group of five or so men in the cell next to theirs wouldn't dream of giving her any trouble with Will there, but they still made her feel uncomfortable. The dingy cell was the farthest she had ever been from her spacious room back in England.

England. As much as she tried, it was difficult _not_ to let her mind wonder back to her home country. She wondered if her parents knew where she was, if they thought about her often, if they missed her. She tried not to, but she missed them… terribly.

Escape seemed impossible. Upon first being thrust into the cell, Will fled to the doors, examined the door hinges and then muttered something about how the architecture had changed.

She would be more content to starve then eat the food that had been offered to them by the soldiers that guarded the prison. The seat beneath her was hard and unforgiving. She had not slept in the two days since she'd been there. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyelids heavy, a yawn fighting to break free from somewhere in the back of her throat.

"Here," a gentle, masculine voice whispered to her. She looked up to see Will smiling down at her. He leaned back against the wall, extending his arm outwards. She smiled weakly back at him before leaning into his side, allowing her head to rest against the crook between his arm and shoulder. It was finally safe enough to close her eyes.

Sleep was just beginning to claim her when the jingle of keys sounded outside the cell. She'd been too exhausted to hear their footsteps approaching on the stone walkway. Her eyes shot open to see two soldiers, both taller and more muscular than Will, opening the heavy iron cell door. One entered the cell, approaching them, while the other stood guard at the door.

"With us, Miss," the taller of the two said, taking a firm grip on her elbow. She was too tired to resist or come up with something witty and sarcastic to snap at him, so she settled for scowling angrily at him instead. Will was quick to his feet as the soldier hauled her onto hers.

"Where are you taking her?" Will snapped.

"Lord Beckett's requested her presence. You're to wait here, Turner."

Rosalind looked to Will, watching as his eyes darted between both men.

"It's alright," she said quietly, using her available arm to reach out and touch his hand gently. She wouldn't let him do anything stupid—the wrong move could hasten his walk to the hangman's noose, if that's where they were indeed headed. Her gaze turned steely again as she looked back to the other man. "They won't hurt me."

Will said nothing, but nodded sadly. She could feel his warm eyes on the back of her neck as the guards led her out of the cell. She cast a final glance backwards at him as they led her down the corridor, her eyes fixed on his as he leaned on the cell bars, watching her disappear out of sight.

* * *

"Lord Beckett's havin' a personal conversation outside. You're to wait here."

Rosalind stumbled forward into Beckett's office as the soldier roughly released her arm. She looked down at her elbow and rubbed it lightly, wondering if she would bruise there later. She exhaled shallowly before looking up, her eyes scanning her surroundings.

Beckett's office was tastefully decorated, as much as she loathed to admit it, and reminded her very much of her father's den back in England. The wall opposite her was composed mostly of three French doors, an incredible view of the ocean and Port Royale's cliffs lying beyond them. Sure enough, Beckett could be seen outside, speaking with a man she'd not seen before. She scowled inwardly before turning her attention back to the room.

The ceilings of the room were high and framed by many windows, allowing sunlight to come pouring in. She welcomed the warmth of the sun's rays as they kissed her face through the glass. In the center of the room were two ornate couches, facing each other to form a conversation area. She smirked, wondering how many friends Beckett could possibly have to converse with. Just beyond them was a large desk. Two armchairs faced it, while another large, elaborate chair sat behind it. It looked almost like a throne and was, undoubtedly, where Beckett sat. She rolled her eyes.

She turned around and nearly gasped to see an elderly man adding ornate details to a wall map. He had been so quiet that she was previously completely unaware of his presence.

"Good day, sir," she curtseyed, as she'd always been taught, despite her predicament. The old man turned around and smiled at her, nodding briefly, but said nothing. He turned back to his work. She quietly walked up behind him, her curiosity getting the better of her. "May I take a look?" she asked softly. He smiled and nodded again.

The map was incredible, unlike any she had ever seen. Beckett was clearly wealthy enough to afford such a talented artist to paint in his office. The map took up the entire wall and she could only imagine the patience and dedication it took to paint it. She wondered what Beckett would need such a large map for, but spoke nothing of it. She was examining the detail of South Africa when she heard the doors open behind her. She turned around, as irritated an expression on her face as she could muster, as Beckett and a male companion entered from the balcony outside.

"Ah, Miss Avery…" _His _expression was smug and sarcastic. "So glad you could make it."

"As if I had a choice," she muttered, folding her arms firmly across her chest. "What do you want with me?"

Beckett said nothing, but instead turned to the other man. He handed him a folded piece of parchment. "Mr. Mercer, I'll trust you to deliver this to Weatherby Swann. He'll be most interested in reading it."

"Aye, Lord Beckett," Mercer nodded. He curtly smiled at Rosalind on his way out the door, shutting it behind him as he disappeared from sight.

"It's Governor Swann, still, or have you forgotten?" Rosalind said. "You're too hasty in your attempt to control all of Port Royale."

"Won't you please sit down, Miss Avery?" Beckett asked politely, walking to a small bar area where she watched him pour himself a glass of brandy. She refused him, however, and remained standing. Being a woman, she didn't expect him to offer _her _anything of an alcoholic nature to drink.

"I'm fine standing, thank you. What was that you're having delivered to Governor Swann?"

"Nothing for you to fret over," Beckett replied. "Can I fetch you some tea then? Water, perhaps?"

"I wouldn't take a beverage from you if I was dying of thirst," she hotly replied.

Beckett smirked. "I was having a copy of Miss Elizabeth Swann's arrest warrant delivered to the good governor," he finally said, after taking a sip of his drink. "I'm sure you understand why such a thing might peak his interest." Beckett crossed the room, making his way towards his desk.

Rosalind said nothing as she felt her chest tighten. Still, she would not let her uneasiness show. "You'll never catch her," she said, smiling. "As long as she's with Jack, you'll never be able to outsmart her."

"Ahh," he said, obviously satisfied. "So she _is_ with Jack Sparrow. Thank you, Miss Avery, for confirming my suspicions."

Rosalind felt her nose burn as her cheeks grew hot. She sucked in several deep breaths. No. She would not cry. Not in front of _him_. "I never said it was Jack Sparrow," she said in a low, angry voice. I have confirmed nothing."

"Of course." He took another sip of brandy. "Regardless, Miss Swann is not the object of my meeting with you."

"Then what is?" He smiled at her. "Jack, then?"

"Very good, Miss Avery. I do believe you're catching on." He removed his hat and sat it on his desk before rising to his feet and walking over to the map. He said something quietly to the artist before the old man nodded obediently and left the room, leaving his easel and paint brush behind. "I'll come directly to the point, Miss Avery. I'm a patient man, but my patience is nearly gone. Jack Sparrow has something that I want. Something that he keeps in his possession at all time," his back was to her as he spoke. "If you can acquire this object, you're free to go. Your name, as well as Miss Swann's, I assure you, will be pardoned. Jack will be given gainful employment as a privateer, and you may return to England instead of returning to prison."

"And what about Will?" Rosalind asked quickly. "What about him?"

"I'll see what I can do for Mr. Turner," Beckett replied drolly. "But his fate is not in my hands."

Rosalind thought for several minutes. "Why me?" she asked.

"I thought you might ask that," he smirked, turning around to face her. "Because you've known Miss Swann since childhood. She trusts you. And if _she _trusts _you_, Jack Sparrow might trust you."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," she corrected.

"Of course," Beckett smiled. "My apologies."

Rosalind thought for several more minutes. "What is it you want?"

"Captain Sparrow's compass," Beckett replied, a little too quickly.

"His _compass_?" she asked. She smirked at Beckett, crossing her arms again. "It must be a very valuable compass, then. What's so special about it that you're willing to grant freedom to three, possibly four, enemies to the crown?"

"I want his compass," Beckett repeated. "That is all the information you need to know."

"Fine, then," Rosalind said nonchalantly. She finally sat down on one of the couches, crossing her leg and leaning back. "If you're so unwilling to confide in me, then I'm equally as unwilling to do as you wish. Find someone else to do your bidding."

Beckett drew in a deep breath through his nostrils before smiling and continuing. His constant smile was infuriating and she was more than tempted to stand up and slap it off his face.

"Very well then," he said. "I'll have you returned to your cell and I'll see you tomorrow morning at your execution. And don't worry. I'll have you and your Mr. Turner hung simultaneously so neither of you has to see the other suffer."

The room fell quiet. She refused to look at him as the gravity of his words washed over her and, much to her chagrin, she was genuinely terrified. Her choice seemed clear then. She had nothing to lose, yet so much to fight for. She unsteadily rose to her feet, her eyes still avoiding Beckett.

"If you'll agree to Will's freedom…" she trailed off, almost ashamed with herself for agreeing to this man's terms, "…I'd be more than happy to do as you wish."

"Very good, Miss Avery. Splendid," Beckett said. "Upon your arrival, I'll set Mr. Turner free from his prison." He returned to his seat behind his desk. "You're free to go."

* * *

That's all for now, folks!

Please review?? Please???


	26. An Incomplete Escape

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**26—An Incomplete Escape**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Thank you for the reviews! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and a happy New Year.

Thank you all _so, so_ much for your concern regarding Sophie. Our one wish was to have her with us for Christmas, which we did. She left us two days later, quite peacefully. So thank you all again, your support has been overwhelming!!

Now, back to the Sparrabeth! My goal for this chapter was to show a more human side of Jack. Hopefully I accomplished that without making him a big pile of… mush.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was easy to ignore the damp chill that hung in the air with so many thoughts running through her head. With Jack's infiltration of Hell's Gate moments away, Norrington's still-recent demise, and a deep longing to see her father, Will and Rosalind, there was so much to think about, Elizabeth had difficulty focusing on one issue for longer than a few moments.

The Black Pearl was anchored in the eerily calm waters of the Mediterranean, just close enough to the prison. She stood at the railing of the ship, her calloused hands anxiously gripping the wood. She breathed in through her nose as deeply as she could, a vain attempt at calming her frazzled nerves. Wisps of golden hair tickled the tops of her ears with what could barely be called a breeze.

The sky, or what could be seen of it, anyway, was a solemn slate blue. Thick, ominous black and gray clouds covered most of the sky, obscuring the moon and stars. The prison itself, however, was enough to make the bravest of individuals uneasy.

Hell's Gate was aptly named, as the prison blended seamlessly with the massive rock formations that jutted from below, as if springing from the very depths of the underworld. The prison had been carved right into it, making it look like an impenetrable fortress. But words like "impenetrable" meant nothing to Jack.

A spiral shaped tower shaped from stone sprouted out from the sea, a feeble looking bridge connecting it to the prison that loomed behind it. Torches dotted the boundaries of the rock island, dancing like fireflies in the distance. Flocks of crows flew menacingly around the bridge, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Elizabeth pondered on what they were doing out at sea.

Her mind was too cluttered with troublesome thoughts to hear him approach behind her. She didn't realize he was there at all until a pair of strong hands came to rest on her hips, gliding forward onto the flatness of her stomach. His chest pressed firmly against her back, he leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from her ear.

"Yer awfully quiet this evenin'," he commented quietly, the braids that dangled from his chin tickling the top of her shoulder.

"Am I?" she asked, clearly distracted.

"Aye…" he replied, sighing. He released her and came to stand beside her, turning around so that his elbows leaned against the railing of the ship. "Lizzie, luv, if yer this troubled, I won't go. We'll look elsewhere."

She smiled slightly as she looked over to him, tearing her eyes from the view of the prison. She was touched that he took her feelings so seriously. She _was _troubled. But at the same time… "No. We're already here, Jack, and I want you to do whatever you have to in order to reassure your safety. You have to free yourself from this debt."

Jack sighed again. "Thank you." He leaned closer to her and kissed the end of her nose, caressing the side of her face before leaning back again.

"How will you get in?" she asked, trying her hardest to sound relaxed and impartial.

He shrugged. "An opportunity will present itself," he said. "Always does."

"Jack…" Elizabeth let out an exasperated breath. "This is your life we're talking about. It's not some port you're about to sack or a galleon you're about to rob senseless. Are you sure that playing it by ear is a wise decision?"

"No," he smirked, making her cheeks hot with irritation. "But one can't be sure of _everything _darlin'. Sometimes no plan is the best plan that a man can plan. Savvy?"

She crossed her arms. "Not in the slightest."

Jack groaned. "Do you trust me?" he asked, standing up straight.

"Sometimes," Elizabeth replied, smiling coyly. "Need I remind you that your instincts have gotten you into trouble many a-time?"

Jack chuckled. "And need I remind you, _Miss Swann_," she shuddered. She hated it when he called her that. "That said instincts have also gotten me _out _of trouble many more times."

He was right. She hated to admit it, but he was right. "Fine," she said. She took a step forward, fully prepared to use her body to take advantage of him. She pressed her chest against his, peeling back the collar of his shirt and placing a feather light kiss on his collar-bone. She heard him inhale shakily and she smiled inwardly, knowing that the desired affect had been achieved.

She looked up at his face, twirling the braids on his chin around her finger and tugging ever-so-slightly. "Just promise me you'll be careful?" She leaned in again, this time kissing his jaw.

"Mm…" was all she got. She looked at his face to see half-lidded eyes, a sleepy, content smile on his face. With that, she pulled away completely, going back to her spot at the railing.

"You're an awful temptress, you know," he grumbled, brushing past her. "Care to see me off, darling?"

"You're going _now_?" she asked, trying with great difficulty to hide any traces of panic from her voice. As prepared for this as she liked to think she was, she was still afraid for him.

"Aye." He smiled. "Ye didn't think I was goin' tomorrow, did ye?"

"No," she snapped back, crossing her arms. He pouted at her, and with the wounded look on her face, she relaxed a little. She moved towards him again, wrapping her arms around him, relaxing even more when she felt him embrace her back. "I am serious, though. Please, Jack… _please _be careful."

"Can't imagine life without ol' Captain Jack, can you, Lizzie?" he asked when she pulled back slightly, smirking from ear to ear.

Elizabeth felt something clench inside her chest at the thought. She maintained a look of utmost seriousness on her face, watching as his own expression fell. She placed a hand on his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. She shook her head. "No."

Jack was silent for a few moments before he drew in a deep breath. The seriousness reflected in her face had crossed onto his own. He leaned down, kissing her slowly and deliberately. "I promise, luv," he said, pulling away. "I'll be careful."

* * *

To many, a promise from Jack Sparrow didn't mean much. But to Elizabeth, it meant a great deal. Despite what she had told him earlier, she trusted him _entirely_ and when he promised her he'd be careful, she believed him wholeheartedly.

She watched him row away towards the prison until he disappeared into the fog. She refused to say goodbye to him, clinging to the hope that he would return to her, safe and unharmed.

Still, as brave and hopeful as she tried to be, she was more anxious than she ever had been. Peddyr's warnings of the prison echoed through her head, right along Jack's tale of Davy Jones. For about an hour after Jack's departure, she followed Gibbs around, waiting for some chore to come up, anything to take her mind away from where Jack was and what he must have been doing. Finally, Gibbs took her gently by each shoulder and encouraged her to get some rest.

"Look, Miss Elizabeth. The captain's on errand, the ship's anchored, and the ocean be calm. There's not another ship to be seen for miles. Why don't you retire to yer cabin, and if something occurs that might acquire yer attention, I promise to fetch you straight away."

"Promise?" Elizabeth asked, her voice tired and frightened.

Gibbs smiled warmly and nodded. "I promise."

So, she did as she was told and retired to her cabin. _Their _cabin. The cabin she shared with Jack. Any rest she might have thought she might be getting was clearly evasive, for she was surrounded by him, as if he was actually there. His scent was everywhere, his things all around her…

After unable to focus on reading a book from Jack's large collection, she sat down at his desk, intent on writing another letter to her father. But, as many thoughts as she had, she couldn't get a single one onto paper. She sat and pondered until her guilt began to consumer her and, frustrated, crumpled the blank piece of parchment and threw it across the room. She rose to her feet and dressed into one of Jack's shirts, feeling huffy and irritated, before crawling into bed.

She tossed and turned for what felt like hours before exhaustion finally consumed her and she slipped into a dark, welcoming abyss. The sleep that found her would not come easily, however, and the slightest of noises would wake her from her slumber. Each time she awoke to find that Jack was nowhere to be seen, a pang struck her heart, and she struggled again to fall back asleep…

* * *

The distant thudding of boots outside was what woke her up for what felt like the hundredth time. Instantly wide awake, she sat up in bed, her chest tight as the boots drew closer. The door to the cabin suddenly opened before slamming and she quickly placed her feet on the floor, standing up and wrapping the sheets around her waist in case the owner of the boots wasn't who she was hoping it would be.

She grabbed the spare pistol that Jack kept beside their bed, not daring to make a noise when suddenly he appeared, drawing back the curtains that separated the living quarters from the sleeping quarters. He saw the pistol clenched tightly in her hand and smiled faintly.

"Good girl," he said. "Just like I taught ye."

"You startled me…" she replied, clearing her throat. She carefully put the pistol back in its spot before dropping the sheets and walking towards him. She said nothing before wrapping her arms tightly around him.

Jack chuckled dryly. "Worried 'bout me?"

"Of course!" she said loudly as he pulled away from her. She stood in her spot, watching him with knotted eyebrows as he moved about the cabin, shedding his effects as he went. That was not like him. Jack _always_ kept his things in a neat pile, should he need to gather them quickly in the event of an ambush. "Well?" she finally asked, watching as he grabbed a bottle of rum from his desk and started to drink.

"Well, what?" he asked, swinging his available arm.

Elizabeth frowned. What was wrong with him? Why was he being this way?

"Any luck?" she asked, ignoring her feelings. "Did you find what you were searching for?"

"Oh. That." He shrugged and put the bottle on the table. She watched with wide eyes as he shuffled back across the room, to where he had left his jacket, and pulled a small, sorry looking scroll of paper out of the pocket. On his way back towards his precious rum, he pressed the paper casually into her hand, but otherwise ignored her.

Elizabeth angrily cocked an eyebrow at him before returning her attention to the scroll. She neatly unrolled it and examined a washed out drawing of… a key?

"What's this?" she asked.

"A drawing of a key," Jack shrugged. ''What's it look like?"

Elizabeth walked to him, tossed the scroll onto the desk and grabbed the bottle of rum from his hand. Before he could object, she marched to the open window and tossed the bottle down to the water below.

"I hadn't finished that," Jack growled.

"I don't give a damn," she growled back. "What is _wrong _with you?"

Jack sighed, as if he was irritated. "It's a drawing of the key that unlocks the chest."

"Well, that's progress, isn't it?" she asked, crossing her arms. "What reason have you to be cross? And you escaped with your life, didn't you?" Jack's dark eyes fell from hers to the ground, avoiding her all together. "Jack?" Nothing. "Answer me!"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's nothing."

"Well, clearly it's something. And I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me what it is." She wasn't going to let his problem fester on its own. It wasn't healthy and she knew it. "What happened to you in there?" she asked, taking a step closer, letting her voice soften.

"Nothing," he repeated. "Elizabeth…" he paused for a long moment. "Let's just say that now I've seen everything."

He walked around her and sat in the large chair beside the window. Elizabeth stood there quietly for a few minutes, mulling over his words in her head. Once the impact of them finally resonated, she slowly turned around to face him. She leaned back against the desk.

"What you mean… is that…"

"Now I've seen things that I never thought I would, nor ever hoped to. Things I'll never ever forget." He paused for a moment, his eyes haunted and distant. "The men in there… those men are just praying for release… anything to make the torture of just _living_ there end. And the smell… smelled like death… like they were rotting from the inside out. So yes, Lizzie. In answer to yer question, I escaped just fine."

Elizabeth smiled at him, walking to where he sat. She sat on the arm of the chair, leaning back and running her fingers through his dreadlocks. "An incomplete escape, I take it."

He sighed. "Suppose ye could say it like that."

She stood up again and made her way over to the bed. "Come over here," she commanded gently. Jack sat silently at first before rising from his chair and obeying her. She patted the mattress and he sat beside her before she scooted back, coaxing him to lie beside her.

"M'not tired," he protested.

"I'm not asking you to sleep," she told him, comfortably resting her head on the pillow. He looked at her, a small trace of defiance evident in his eyes, but it was quickly followed by a sad look of defeat. He inhaled sharply before lying down, rolling onto his side to face her.

Elizabeth gently tugged off his bandana before tossing it across the room, not caring where it landed. She lightly began to stroke her fingertips over his temple, not saying a word, watching as he struggled to keep his eyes open. She just smiled at him, encouraging him to rest. She didn't relinquish her treatment until his eyes were indeed closed, and his breathing became steady.

Then, she was finally able to sleep soundly.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Now go review! See you next time!


	27. The Smell of Death

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**27—The Smell of Death**

**DISCLAMIER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone for the kind words about Sophie and—of course—the reviews! You're all _wonderful_!!! *Sends cookies and cupcakes*

Just a little warning, this chapter is slightly graphic as it goes into some gruesome details about Jack's prison break-in. It may not be the exciting, edge-of-your-seat experience you'd see in the movies, but I think it's a more realistic depiction of how things might have gone. It's not too vital to the story line, so if you want to skip it, you can.

* * *

The night was exceptionally quiet as the Pearl sailed through the ocean's inky black waters. There was little wind and it was a wonder that she was moving at all, but neither one of them seemed to mind, or even notice for that matter. The moon glided eerily behind the clouds, the stars obscured by them. The light from the cabin's last candle was dull and close to flickering out, with only a small amount of wax left, reflecting the mood quite efficiently.

What was most troubling, however, was how _quiet _Jack was and had been over the course of the evening. Elizabeth wasn't exactly sure what time it was, but she knew it had been at least a few hours since he'd been back. The usual mischievous glimmer in his eyes had disappeared and he'd hardly said anything… she practically had to beg him to bed her, and even throughout their lovemaking, he wasn't himself.

She lay in the crook of his arm, watching him as he stared absentmindedly up at the ceiling, her hand flat against his smooth chest. Other times like this, she was too preoccupied with the wonder that she was simply with him (and subsequently, he with her) to think of much else. But tonight, all she could do was ponder his thoughts, wondering what she could do, if anything, to get him to return to his usual sly, jovial personality.

"I know I'm only stating what's painfully obvious," she finally said, her voice low and unobtrusive, "but you're awfully quiet this evening, Jack." She paused for a few minutes, her eyes falling from his face when he didn't look at her. "I miss you," she said quietly.

He said nothing for a long while, but she was comforted a great deal when his grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her closer to him. After five, possibly more, minutes, he sighed heavily and spoke. "M'sorry."

"You needn't be," she replied, all too quickly. "I just wish… if something's troubling you…" She stopped, frustrated that she couldn't formulate her thoughts proficiently. "If you're troubled, you can confide in me."

Jack smirked, however slightly. "Just that I feel like I can brood around you, is all," he told her nonchalantly. "M'comfortable enough to, anyways. An' that's a compliment, just in case you didn't see it."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "I did. I still wish you would confide in me, though."

"Oh, my dear, sweet Lizzie." Jack bent forwards slightly, kissing the top of her head before running his fingers once through her hair. "I appreciate your effort, luv, but it's nothing worth troubling your pretty little head over." Elizabeth grinned and pinched him, making a point to use her nails. "Ouch!" Jack practically squealed. "What was that for?" he cried, pulling away slightly.

"You silly, ridiculous pirate," she chided. She clicked her tongue at him. "You should know me better by now."

He scowled down at her for a few moments before his brow softened and he let his head lie back on the pillow again. "Fine," he said, his voice pouty. His eyes fluttered closed before he spoke again. "I'll let you in on a secret then, Lizzie."

She pulled out of his embrace and propped herself up on her elbow, her attention fixed on him. "Please do."

Without opening his eyes, he twisted the ends of his mustache with his fingers. "I'm human," he said, his voice sultry and low.

"No!" she gasped, feigning disbelief. She slapped his chest playfully. "Jack, be serious."

"I am bein' serious, if ye'd only shut up and listen," he replied, artfully dodging another slap. "What I mean is…" He paused in a way that suggested he didn't really want to continue, but was going to anyways for her sake. "…I feel the same way _you_ do. Things… things are bothersome sometimes. They resonate an' refuse to give me any peace." He finally opened his eyes and looked at her. "I might act like an unfeeling wretch sometimes, darlin', but m'not." He closed his eyes and smirked again. "Try as I might."

"Oh, Jack," she sighed, leaning back into him. She kissed his side. "I know that." She rested her head on his chest, wishing he had trusted her enough to let her accompany him to Hell's Gate, for that was clearly still what was troubling him. "Tell me more."

"I told you, it's not worth troubling _you_ over. I'm troubled enough for the both of us, dearie."

"Please? Jack… please?" She kissed him again. "You'll feel better for it."

"Go to sleep, Lizzie."

"Jack?"

"We'll discuss it later."

"Jack."

He groaned and released his hold on her, pushing her away slightly before turning on his opposite side and ignoring her completely. She tried (and failed) not to be hurt by this, but sucked in a deep breath, edged close to him, and placed a feather-light kiss on his bare shoulder.

She rolled onto her back and stared upwards, just waiting… waiting for him to speak, waiting for his steady breathing, waiting for sleep to take her…

At least fifteen minutes must have passed before he finally spoke.

"I got lucky."

"What's that?"

He sighed, rolling onto his back.

"How I got in. I got lucky." Elizabeth said nothing, but rolled onto her side again, facing him. She waited patiently for him to continue. "Some poor bastard tried to make a break for it. Would rather dive into the ocean and drown than die in that place." He shrugged. "Didn't make it very far, but just far enough to let me slip in, unnoticed. Rather unexciting and hardly in the style of the great Capt'n Jack Sparrow, but… got the job done, didn't it?"

"I'll help you find a way to embellish the tale later," she said quietly. Jack chuckled softly, as if more than grateful for her attempts to ease his cluttered mind. "How were you not discovered once you got in?"

Jack shrugged again. "Don't know. Someone up there must like me." This time, it was Elizabeth who laughed. "Luck was on my side," he told her, wondering absentmindedly in the back of his head when that luck would run out. "I wouldn't have gotten away with it during the daytime, though."

"No?"

He shook his head. "I had the shadows to assist me," he admitted. "And that place…" She watched him as his eyes fell somewhere distant, his mind wandering back. He truly looked haunted, disturbed. "There was so much noise," he finally said. "The waves, for starters… the ocean, me constant rescuer."

He paused again. She could tell he didn't want to continue and she was surprised when he did. But his voice was different, shallow and quiet. "There was so much of it… every noise, every sound… it was all amplified… The sound of the whip against man's back… the sound of iron searing flesh… an' the sound of so many tortured souls, cryin', moanin'… just waiting… prayin'… prayin' for death.

"An' that's what it was like. I was surrounded by it. I could smell it… the smell of that place… the men there smelled like they were rotting inside. Rotting from the inside out… the smell of death.

"The wickedness of it was so great that I could hardly believe any of it was real. An' thank the sweet gods above for it, 'cause it was all I could do to keep me composure.

"The prisoners were so far gone, they didn't even notice I was there. For the most part, that is. I knew I'd have to get noticed at some point in time to get what I needed. The gent I was lookin' for… I had no name to go on… no description of the poor wretch…"

"A tedious task," Elizabeth said quietly.

"A tedious task, indeed."

"But you got the drawing of the key. How did you find him?" she asked.

Jack smirked, and a very small part of her was comforted by it. "I didn't really," he confessed, his shoulders moving ever so slightly as he spoke. Elizabeth's brow furrowed, to which Jack responded, "he found me." He breathed in deeply through his nose and Elizabeth watched his face as his eyes looked upwards, away from her. "I just started to wander. S'not much of a strategy, but when yer path is chosen for you based on keepin' yerself hidden, you adjust… work with what ye've got, so t' speak.

"So I just snuck around. Paused to listen every now an' then, hear what the prisoners were sayin' to each other, if anythin' at all. Most of 'em were too far gone to speak anyhow.

"I ended up at the crook of two hallways, a truly unfortuitous place to be. At any moment…"

* * *

_At any moment he was likely to get caught. Guards could come from this direction or that and then he'd be done for. He'd no longer have to worry about finding the information he needed on Jones or the chest, for he knew he wouldn't make it out at all. And if given the option, he'd rather be unarmed against Jones and take his chances than stay in this place._

_He came to the end of the hallway he had just wandered down, unnoticed, and peered to his right, then to his left. In either direction were seemingly never ending corridors of cells, yet not a guard in sight. To the casual observer, this might seem strange, but to a man with _his _mind, it was hardly unusual. Any man left in this place for longer than a night or two would be left truly defeated. They could still cry and scream and moan… but fighting back was no longer an option. This place, so full of despair and helplessness, sucked it right out of you._

_Then he heard them… slight jingling at first, the sound of chains in the distance. He held his breath, daring not even to breath, and ducked around the corner as the noise was joined by footsteps and the familiar, haunting sound of someone being dragged along the cold, damp, unforgiving ground. If they were to round the corner, he'd be done for. Goodbye freedom… goodbye Pearl…. Goodbye Lizzie._

_All too suddenly, the noises ceased, replaced by the sound of jingling keys. He didn't have to turn his head to know they were at the cell closest to him. _

"_Now," said one gruff voice, accompanied by the squeaking and wailing of the cell door as it opened. Jack winced as the sound of a body being thrown in against the hard ground echoed through the narrow hallways. "One more word out of you about that damned ship and it'll be solitary confinement for ye!" _

_The door slammed and the guard's companion cackled. "And nothin' more about monsters! They don't exist!!"_

_Both men roared with laughter and Jack listened with bated breath as their footsteps retreated from where they had come from. Ship? Monsters? _

_He stood still, silence resonating as the footsteps grew quieter and quieter until they disappeared completely. Then…_

"_Come out, come out, wherever you are…"_

_Jack frowned, turning his head slightly. _

"_I saw you, mate. No use hidin'. Come out. I don't bite." The prisoner's voice was weak and raspy and… oddly familiar. Against his better judgment (something he was used to ignoring anyways), he crept out from around the corner, peering towards the darkened cell. "Jack Sparrow…" A shell of a man was slumped against the bars, watching him with a toothless smile and yellowed eyes. "I thought so. Only the likes of you would be foolish enough to want in to a place like this."_

_Jack narrowed his eyes into slits, focusing on the face before reality hit him. "Seamus?"_

_The man shrugged, but with what little energy he had, it was hardly a shrug at all. "More or less." He coughed so violently his head flew back, hitting the wall lightly._

_Seamus MacInbaird was one of the first friends Jack had ever made, one of the few people in life he'd actually been able to trust. They'd been cabin boys together about fourteen, maybe fifteen years ago, on the HMS Swallow. Both turned pirate around the same time, give or take a few months. That was the last time Jack had seen him, and all that was familiar about him was gone. The mess of curly red hair had disappeared. His once rosy cheeks were now gaunt, his green eyes sunken. Even his heavy Irish brood was hardly recognizable. _

_Jack suppressed a sigh and came to crouch down in front of the man's cell. "I was honestly hopin' I wouldn't see any familiar faces in 'ere." _

"_Sorry to disappoint ye," Seamus said, revealing a nearly toothless grin. "And you? What's yer story?"_

"_Snuck in."_

"_Never did adhere to the conventional," Seamus replied. "Why?"_

"_Doesn't matter," Jack lied. He began to fish through his effects, looking for something effective enough to pick the cell lock. He reached up towards his head (for finding strange trinkets there was hardly an odd occurrence) when he came across the reindeer bone. Just the thing… he smirked to himself as he began to unravel it from the braid it was attached to. He looked over his shoulder and then the other one to make sure no one was coming before deftly inserting the tip of the bone into the lock._

"_You'll never make it out of here alive with me slung over yer shoulder," Seamus said, coughing again. _

"_Sure I will," Jack whispered. "I'm Capt'n Jack Sparrow."_

"_Of course. How could I have forgotten?" Seamus was quiet for a few moments as Jack continued to pick the lock. "I mean it, Jackie. It's too late for me. Don't bother with all that."_

"_Stop breakin' me concentration," Jack muttered quietly._

"_Around the corner, to the left," Seamus continued on, his voice seeming to grow weaker by the minute. "I don't know for certain, but I think that's where they take the bodies. Every prisoner that leaves here does so in a pine box. You'll be wise to remember that."_

"_A handy method of escape for when the time comes," Jack said, nodding, refusing to tear his concentration from the lock. "And what of the two lovely gents what threw you in here? Am I to assume they're the crazy ones?"_

_Seamus chuckled, as best he could given his weakness. "You mean the monsters?" He drew in a shaky, ragged breath, closing his eyes. "They're real. As real as you'n'me, Jack. Be careful when yer on the outside."_

"_I believe you," Jack answered truthfully. "I've seen a few meself. What have you seen?"_

"_When you come across him, if you haven't already, you'll know it right away. But whatever you do, don't make him angry. He'll put his beast on you. I was foolish enough to dry an' deceive him an' me ship an' crew paid for it." Jack looked up to see his eyes growing wide, as if remembering all of it quite vividly. "One swipe of its giant arm and they were all dead. I'm lucky to have survived, though now… now I'd take death at his hands gladly."_

"_This beast…" Jack prodded, "a sea beast, I take it?"_

"_Aye," Seamus nodded. Jack watched him as he began to search through his ragged clothes, realizing that the man he'd been looking for he'd known all along. Finally, he pulled out a folded rag, reaching out with as much strength as he could muster and pressing it into Jack's palm through the bars. "Here. Take this with you. I've no use for it anymore."_

_Jack paused for a moment from what he was doing and unfolded the parchment. It was a key. Or rather… a _drawing _of a key._

"_What's this?" he asked._

"_The only way…" Seamus carried off, coughing viscously. "The only way… to stop him." Seamus leaned his head against the bars and Jack frowned, going back to his work._

"_Hold on a few moments longer, Seamus. I've almost got it," he assured him. Finally, after only a few minutes, as promised, the lock sprung open and the door swung free. "Come on. We better hurry." Jack leaned forward to help Seamus to his feet, only to see a pair of lifeless eyes, wide open, staring back at him. Jack breathed in shallowly through his nose and closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he opened them, he leaned forward, just barely touching the other man's face, closing his eyes. "Peace at last," he whispered. "Goodnight, mate."_

_He rose to his feet and carefully pulled the bone from the picked lock. He'd reattach it later._

_He left the door open, and, as instructed, took a left around the corner._

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	28. The Kraken

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**28—The Kraken**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

Elizabeth stayed awake that night long enough to make sure Jack got some sleep himself.

After his heart-clenching rendering of his experience inside the prison, she said nothing. Instead, she leaned in, kissed him very softly on the lips, and gently pushed him down against his pillow.

She then proceeded to lightly trace his hairline with her fingernails, just watching him with an easy, comforting smile on her face, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Feeling a bit like a mother soothing her child, she kissed him again, this time on the forehead, as he finally gave up and let sleep take him. Only then did she curl up beside him, allowing his steady breathing to lull her into rest.

Instinctively she knew that opening up and sharing such personal details with her was not an easy task, especially for a man as guarded as Jack, and she was touched that he was able to confide in her. She knew that they would not be discussing his experience again, at least not any time soon, but his storytelling told her told of his trust in her, and as she began to doze off, nestled up against him, she silently swore that she would make herself worthy of that trust.

* * *

The exact passage of time was indistinct, for Elizabeth hadn't been entirely aware of the time when she had fallen asleep. What she was aware of, however, was that when she nodded off, she had a warm, firm body next to her. Now, said body had vacated its spot, and there was a cold, slight indent where Jack had once been.

She sat up slowly, rubbing one bleary eye with the back of her wrist as she pulled the sheets up around her torso. Her available hand reached out and touched his side of the bunk and she frowned slightly when she felt the spot. Judging by its absolute lack of warmth, he had been out of bed for some time, and a part of her wondered if he had feigned sleep earlier to get her to sleep herself. Had she taken the time to sit and ponder, she might recognize such an action as a sweet attempt to allow her to sleep with an easy mind. But she didn't. Instead, she muttered a profanity (with his name attached to it), rolled out of bed, and hastily dressed herself.

Elizabeth swung open the heavy red curtains that separated the sleeping quarters from the main cabin (which Jack had so _considerately_ closed) and was immediately faced with an empty space.

Jack's desk was a mess, which suggested he'd been working at it for quite some time. One candle had been snuffed out already and the other was close behind. An empty bottle of rum sat on the desk's corner. She scowled as she picked it up, distinctively able to remember throwing a near-full bottle out the window earlier that evening. Someday, she thought to herself, she would find the cabin's hidden stash and rid Jack of the drink for good… well, temporarily, at least.

She was about to march outside and find him, whether he retreated to the wheel or, more likely, the rum cellar, and haul him back to bed by his ear when she heard shouting… Jack's shouting.

Startled, she dropped the bottle to the floor, jumping when shards of broken glass stung her bare toes. She winced in pain and looked down at them for only a moment when Jack's distant shouts continued.

"Movement!" she faintly heard, from somewhere below deck. "I want movement!"

She thought for a brief moment about bandaging her wounded toes, but instead ignored the pain, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. Involuntary tears, both out of pain and fear, flooded her eyes. Were they being ambushed? Had the navy discovered them? Had… she gulped, truly frightened… had Davy Jones found him? Was he angry?

Her feet stung with harsh, unimaginable pain as she ran from Jack's desk towards the door, grabbing one of Jack's old jackets on the way out the door. It was one he didn't wear anymore and had given to her, for her use. She loosely wrapped it over her shoulders as she made her way out on deck.

When she got there, Jack had his back to her, and the crew was standing in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes and puzzled expressions. He had clearly just finished saying something, for he turned around, ducking past her and hiding beneath the stairwell that flanked one side of the entrance to their cabin.

"Jack?" she called gently after him, taking a brief moment to look over her shoulder at Gibbs, who was right behind her.

"I thought I'd seen the last of his crazy antics," Gibbs muttered under his breath to her, "but once again, he's proven me wrong." He sighed heavily, turning directly to her. "Miss Elizabeth, I honestly can't fathom how ye put up wif 'im."

"Neither can I," she muttered back as Jack's first mate walked past her, going directly to their captain.

"Jack?" Gibbs asked cautiously, Elizabeth following close behind.

"Shh!" was all Jack responded with. His eyes refused to make contact with either of them, fixed upward instead.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jack, what's gotten into you?" Elizabeth asked crossly. There had been no sign of any ship _anywhere_ in sight. This sudden outburst of his, though not entirely unusual (by Jack's standards, anyways), was still off-putting.

Jack was silent for a moment before he forced a grin on his face, one of those all-too-charming grins that immediately told her he was in trouble. Again. "Nothing," he said, his words dripping with false good-humor.

"Jack…" she said, crossing her arms. "You're lying."

"No I'm not," he said, the grin not falling from his face. He slowly, guardedly inched out from his hiding spot, looking up towards the sky as if expecting something heavy to fall on him. He gently took hold of Elizabeth's elbow before turning halfway towards Gibbs. "Back to the Caribbean with all haste," he said.

"Sir?" Gibbs asked, puzzled.

"Tell the crew if they can get us there in less than a week, then it's three extra rations of rum for the lot of 'em. Now, Gibbs! On the double! Tout suite!"

Elizabeth could hear Gibbs "aye, capt'n," as Jack shut the cabin door behind them, shoving her in first. She watched his face as he was greeted with the sight of the broken bottle, along with a small puddle of blood. His eyes instinctively darted to her, then down to her feet.

"Sit!" he instructed, all too loudly, ushering her towards the desk chair.

"No," she replied firmly, her arms still cross. "Not until you tell me what's happening. Why are we headed back to the Caribbean? What's going on, Jack?"

Jack winced, a wince that was partially humored and partially pained. His voice almost cracked (out of discomfort, she surmised) when he finally spoke. "Sit down, Lizzie, an' I promise to tell you all about it."

Elizabeth glared at him though did as she was told, the sharp pain she felt getting the best of her. She watched as he fluttered around the room, tearing off a piece of cloth from a sheet in the trunk beneath the window. She looked down at her bloody toes for only a moment, a moment in which Jack gathered another bottle of rum in hand, and was on his way towards her. He said nothing, much to her annoyance, as he soaked the cloth and proceeded to tend to her cuts. She yelped, the burn of the alcohol searing her to her core, and she instantly wished for some of it to drink… to calm her nerves, at least.

"Sit still," Jack said firmly.

"How dare you!" she cried. His eyes immediately shot up to hers. "You have no right to be ordering _me _around when it's you who's keeping secrets."

Jack said nothing, but smiled at her again, that uneasy "I'm-hiding-something" smile.

"And ye took yer frustrations out on yer poor, helpless little toes I see," he said, smirking. She had half a mind to yank her foot from his grasp and kick him heartily in the chin, but refrained.

"It's your fault," she said angrily. "You started screaming and I dropped the bloody bottle."

"Ah, I see. I wonder how many hapless, ill-fated bottles will meet their demise at your hand, dear Lizzie."

"Please, it's an inanimate object," she replied. "And you're still avoiding my question."

Jack sighed before tying off her makeshift bandages. She watched, still mighty irritated, as he rose to his feet, frantically fluttering around the room. Finally, he spoke, his eyes avoiding hers. "Ye remember the night I told ye about my debt to Jones?"

"Yes…"

"And ye remember what I told you said-debt incurred?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. "A hundred years of servitude aboard the Flying Dutchman." She sat silently, watching him as he grinned at her, wringing his hands together nervously. "That wasn't a lie, was it, Jack?" she asked sternly.

"No! No." He said quickly. "Well…"

"Jack…"

"Not _entirely_."

"What do you mean, 'not entirely?'"

"Well, there's just a bit more to it, is all."

"Jack!" Elizabeth quickly jumped to her feet, her arms crossed, but the sharp pain that shot through her feet and up through her legs urged her to sit down again. She did so, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "What more is there?!" she nearly shouted, her heart racing with a mix of anger and fear.

"Well…" Jack was now rocking back and forth on his feet. He spoke slowly and cautiously, as if any given word would cause her to shatter into a hundred tiny pieces. "Well, if a man avoids Jones to a certain extent… that is, if he refuses to go to him to pay his debt… he sort of… well, he… well, let's just say that Jones has _other _means of makin' 'im pay."

"_What_ other means? And be specific. I'm tired of you dancing around this as if it isn't of grave importance," Elizabeth said.

Jack sighed deeply, his eyes growing serious. He stared at her in silence for a few moments before speaking again. "There's a small detail that I left out, Lizzie."

"Why?" she asked, her voice small and sad, all previous notions of trust and faith starting to wither. How could he not be honest with her? Did he not trust her after all?

"Well, you already had so much goin' on, is all," he replied. "I didn't want to burden you further. Ye know… give ye more to worry about."

Elizabeth closed her eyes before speaking. She suddenly felt very tired. "Just tell me, Jack." When she opened her eyes, he was no longer looking at her, but instead at the floor.

"Jones has… a pet. A beast, really. A creature he can summon what does his biddin' whenever he pleases."

"Oh?"

"Aye. S'a giant sea creature what can take down an entire ship without battin' an eyelash." Somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth could feel her heart breaking, a combination of fresh panic and fear.

"I take it that's why we're headed for land, then."

"Aye."

"And I take it it's after you."

"Yes." The vision of Bootstrap Bill's barnacle covered face flashed through his mind. In light of recent developments (like a large, splotchy black spot in the middle of his palm), such a detail hardly seemed significant. He'd make a point to tell her about it later, though, when she wasn't so cross with him. "Jones sent one of 'is henchmen to inform me that it's on its way."

"I see," Elizabeth said quietly, nodding. A pit was forming in the middle of her stomach. "And does this beast have a name?"

The pit that was rising in Elizabeth's stomach was doing the same in Jack's throat as he watched her face, sad and disheartened, from across the room. Had he only known those thirteen years ago that this unimaginable beauty would come into his life, that he'd have her safety, her emotions and feelings, in the palm of his hand… he would have found a very different way to bargain for the Pearl. Or… dare he say it… the Pearl would lie where his mother had left her… at the bottom of the ocean.

Finally, he nodded. "The kraken."

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews please!

Thanks for reading!


	29. Promises

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**29—Promises**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I greatly appreciate it.

And thank you for being patient with my updates (or, rather, lack-thereof). It's shaping up to be a busy semester, so hang in there with me and I promise to update as frequently as I can.

Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

Elizabeth's heart was pounding so hard, it actually made her chest hurt. She was hardly aware of her surroundings, hardly aware that it was just a nightmare as she flew up in bed. Images of massive, crushing tentacles still danced on the edge of her subconscious. A caricature of Davy Jones, created by her wild imagination, laughed sinisterly in the back of her head, the image of Jack's lifeless body flashing before her over and over again.

The nightmare began to fade away as she was suddenly aware of being cold, small beads of sweat breaking on her forehead. She shivered and suppressed the tears that were threatening to fall as she pulled the sheets up, clutching them around her chest.

She jumped when the palm of Jack's hand found its way to the small of her back, feeling the bed shift as he sat up beside her.

"It's alright," he said quietly. "Just a bad dream, Lizzie. S'not real."

"It felt real," she replied, squeezing her eyes shut and promptly opening them again when greeted with the grisly images she was trying so hard to forget.

"Come to me," he said, his voice still soft. His fingers gripped the material of her nightshirt (or rather, his nightshirt, which she had borrowed).

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and glared at him before uttering a firm, "No." She tossed the covers off her bare legs and spun around, placing her feet on the cool planks of wood beneath her. She ignored the chilly air, wondering how much longer it would be before they reached the Caribbean. She flung the curtains back that separated the sleeping quarters from the main living space. She didn't know exactly where she was going or what her intentions were, but she knew she just wanted to be alone.

She plopped down with a huff in his empty armchair, wishing the cabin had a fireplace, but was fully aware of the dangers of such a thing. It wasn't more than five minutes before he appeared in front of her. She glanced up at him coldly before pretending to be vastly interested in her cuticles.

"Well, Elizabeth?" She could see him cross his arms out of the corner of her eye, but didn't look up at him. She wanted to scowl at him, for he only called her "Elizabeth" when he was upset with her, which she thought was nervy. But she chose to ignore it. There were more important things to argue about.

"I'm still cross with you," she said coldly, finally staring up at him with a steely gaze.

"So I gathered." He crouched before her and lowered his voice. "An' just what does a poor gent have to do to earn a lady's forgiveness?"

"Leave her be, and if he is brave enough, dare to speak to her in the morning."

"Come back to bed, Lizzie."

She was mildly relieved to hear him call her by her pet name, but she still ignored it.

"No."

He let out a sigh of frustration. "Please come back to bed."

"No! You lied to me!"

"Oh. So that's what your cross about, then," he said, smirking at her.

"Of course that's what I'm cross about! What else do I have to be cross about?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, defensively.

Elizabeth looked up, watching Jack as he sauntered across the room. He sat down in his desk chair and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head and placing his bare feet up on the surface of the wood. She had half a mind to get up and slap the smug grin off his face, but she refrained, glaring daggers at him from her spot by the window.

"And just so ye know, Lizzie," he said, pausing to open a desk drawer and pluck out a bottle of rum, "I didn't lie to you. I simply withheld information."

"Oh yes, that's decidedly better," she quipped.

"Well," he said with a shrug, taking a sip of rum before speaking again. "It's not any better, darlin', but there is a difference. If yer goin' to be cross with me, I'd prefer it be for the right reasons."

At this, she lost her temper, all traces of self control flying out the window and disappearing into the inky black sky.

"You infuriating man!" she shouted.

"Shush," Jack said nonchalantly, waving his hand at her. "Ye'll wake the crew."

"I don't give a damn about the sodding crew!"

"Well, don't let them hear ye say it. Hurt their feelings, or whatnot."

"Shut up!" Elizabeth screamed. "Shut up and let me finish!" When he said nothing (as she was rather expecting he would), she stood up straight and continued, forcing her voice lower. She leaned forward on the desk, both her palms flat against the wood. "Whatever you wish to call it, Jack, you weren't honest with me. All I've asked of you since being here is for your honesty, and you couldn't even do that." She stood up straight again, crossing her arms across her chest. "How am I supposed to trust you if you cannot find it in yourself to trust me?"

She turned away from him then and let out a sigh, brushing her hair out of her face as she trudged back to bed, glad to not see the wounded expression that crossed his face. He could be so lovably pathetic and she knew if she looked at him, a large chunk of resolve would melt away, and at the current time, that was not something she could afford to lose.

She crawled back onto the mattress and pulled her pillow into her lap, holding it against her chest as she rocked slightly. It was all she could do to keep herself from bursting into tears. She should have known something like this would happen. More importantly, she couldn't figure out why it was letting it bother her so much. Maybe it was because of how strongly she felt for him and how terrified she was for his safety. Whatever it was, she was hurt, and she needed him to know it.

Several moments passed before several more. She thought that maybe he had silently slipped outside on deck, as only he could do, when suddenly he appeared before her, looking down at her with a solemn face.

"I knew I'd upset you," he said, his eyes darting away from her. "I didn't know I'd upset you this much."

"Well, you have."

Jack stood there before her, completely silent, for several moments. Finally, he sat at the foot of the bed, a safe distance away from her. She watched as he nervously scratched the top of his head, then his jaw, as she had noticed him do in the past.

"Can I fix it?" he finally asked, looking up at her. The fact that he looked directly at her, their eyes locking, was tremendously comforting. This time, however, it was she who broke the gaze.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice just above a whisper. She looked up at him again. "Can you?"

He smiled at her. Not a smirk, not a grin. A smile. "I'd like to. If the lady permits."

"Jack, I'm serious."

"So am I!" he wailed in a whiny, very un-Jack-like voice. Elizabeth sat there quietly, watching him carefully, trying to determine if he was being truthful or not. She watched as he closed his eyes lightly before pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before looking up, staring into the dark expanse of the cabin. She wondered if he was purposefully avoiding her gaze. "Tell me what to do, Lizzie."

Elizabeth continued to watch him, forcing herself to remember who she was talking to. She knew being apologetic and open with his feelings was not exactly easy for members of the opposite sex, let alone Jack, who was more guarded and protective of his emotions than any man she was likely to meet. Still, she needed him to understand how important this was to her, how important it was that he at least tried to change some of his behaviors if their relationship meant anything at all to him.

Finally, she scooted towards him from her spot and cautiously reached for his hand, silently apologizing when he startled at the contact.

"I'm not going to tell you exactly what to do, Jack," she said softly, speaking to him in a tone that she would use with a child, but with meaning suitable for a man of Jack's age. "You need to figure that out on your own."

He was about to object, but she stopped him.

"And I know you can," she continued. "I have faith in you. What _I _need is for you to have faith in me."

"It's not like I _didn't _tell you about that giant, uncooked slice of calamari because I had no faith in you, Lizzie," he quickly said, leaving her no room for argument. "I simply didn't tell you because I knew how overwrought your little head was with thoughts of yer father an' Norrington… an' all ye left behind."

"I don't see it that way," she said.

"But—"

"No… I don't mean that. I believe what you say, Jack, and I appreciate your effort, but I don't see my life as one that got left behind. It's just… starting a new adventure, is all."

"That's it!" he said suddenly, his voice louder. "It's _not_ just an adventure. My life isn't romantic… it's not all adventure and romance and journeys to exotic lands."

"I know," she said in a quiet, yet strong and reasonable voice. "It's dangerous and dirty and frightening. And that's what I'm trying to help you understand, Jack! That I understand it!" Jack stood there, staring at her, his eyebrows knotted together. She sighed… she'd confused him. She rose to her feet and walked to where he stood. Gently, she placed one hand on each of his shoulders. "I know that being a pirate isn't what I read about in books as a child. And that's the thing, Jack, I'm not a child anymore. I appreciate your efforts to shield me, and I fully comprehend _why_ you didn't tell me… but it only makes me feel insulted."

"Never meant to _insult _you," he grumbled quietly.

"Then trust me. Don't keep things from me for the sake of my protection. I need you to have faith that I can handle it."

"Luv…"

"Jack, this is serious. This is your life we're talking about. Don't you want me to help you?"

"My life isn't worth you losing yours," he said quickly. The words hit her square in the chest, like they had manifested into something physical.

"You can't honestly believe that."

"Damn straight I do," Jack said sternly, crossing his arms.

Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes narrowing into slits, wondering how she was going to outwit the master. Jack was a smart man and she knew she wouldn't get her way entirely. She'd likely have to find a balance. And that's what relationships were about, weren't they? Striking a balance so both sides were happy?

"Fine." She crossed her arms. "What are your terms, then, Mr. Sparrow?"

"Captain Sparrow."

"Jack, not now."

"Alright, fine." He crossed _his _arms and pouted. "We'll do things your way. FOR NOW."

"What does that mean?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"It means… where I go, you go. What I know, I _promise_, you will know." He paused and took a deep breath. "But the second something goes wrong… the very moment you get hurt… we do things _my _way. My rules. No argument."

Elizabeth mulled over his words. She could tell he was deadly serious. This was the side to Jack that even _she _rarely saw.

"Fine," she said, uncrossing her arms. She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, preparing to take full advantage of her womanly wiles. She pressed her chest firmly against his and ever-so-gently ran her knee on the inside of his thigh. She was so close to him, she heard his breath hitch in his throat and could feel his heart beating against hers. When she spoke, she was extra careful to make her throat low and sultry, the way she knew her pirate loved to be talked to. "But be it known, _Captain Sparrow_, that I'm only agreeing to your terms because I know I'll get my way in the end."

"Oh?" He visibly swallowed and she smirked up at him, her lips lingering awfully close to his own. "And what makes you so certain, Miss Swann?"

She laughed her best throaty, sensual laugh. "Because _I _know you won't let that happen…" She lightly tugged on the braids dangling from his chin. "…will you, Jack?" She slowly unbuttoned her shirt as she walked. She shrugged it off her shoulders, making her way back to the bed. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking full advantage of her situation. Or rather, _his _situation.

Jack, in all his predictability (of which he was blissfully unaware of), stalked towards her. He was ready to pounce on her, an anxious, feral grin spreading across his lips, when she stopped him by holding her leg up. The bottom of her foot stopped him as it came to rest against the center of his abdomen.

"Promise me, Jack," she suddenly said. Her voice was not coy. She was in no way trying to be sexy. She was deadly serious.

"I promise." She was immensely relieved to hear the same seriousness reflected in his own voice. "I promise I won't lie to you again."

"Lie?" she let her voice be coy _that_ time, remembering his previous statement. "I thought you simply 'withheld information.'"

"Open for interpretation," he grinned, leaning over her. His mouth descended upon hers, and once again, peace was restored between the Sparrow and the Swann.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I know it's a little fluffy, but I felt like I needed to write that. Stay tuned—the next chapter will be big!

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	30. The Lie

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**30—THE LIE**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N:** Hello, everyone! First and foremost, thank you all so, so much for the reviews from the last chapter! They were awesome!

Second of all, I'm terribly sorry for not updating in—gasp—a whole month! It's that lovely time of the semester that we refer to as "midterms," and usually they're spaced out over the course of a few weeks, but this semester, all four of my professors plotted together and gave their midterms in the same week. Also, I've been super busy preparing for a spring break road trip that's taken more time and energy than I thought it would.

Anyways! Thanks again for the reviews and thank you very much for your patience! On with the chapter!

* * *

The silence of the cabin and its surroundings was broken by a resounding crash as the empty bottle smashed against the closed door, broken shards of glass and remaining droplets of rum going everywhere. Elizabeth knew exactly how he would react, what he would say…

_Another helpless bottle o' rum 'as fallen a victim in yer hands, hmm, Lizzie? _

But she didn't care. Her frustration had reached its boiling point and with little else to take it out on, the bottle did indeed become her victim.

The cabin itself was in disarray. The mattress on their bunk had been overturned, the sheets torn off and left in a pile next to the overturned nightstand. Drawers from the desk had been pulled out from their spots, their contents spread on the floor. The cupboards had been cleaned of their possessions, of which were now scattered beneath the window alongside the items from the chest. The armchair's cushions had been pulled up and a loose floorboard that she knew of had been pulled up, only to reveal nothing, not the secret hiding compartment she had _hoped_ to find.

Two hours had passed and Elizabeth's search and turned up nothing. Tired and irritated, she sat in a heap in the center of the room, so frustrated she was close to tears.

Did their conversation mean absolutely _nothing_ to him? How could he so blatantly lie to her when he had sworn to her that he wouldn't? He promised her! Just last night, he had promised that wherever he went, she would go to. And all of it… all of his endearing words… all of it was completely empty.

* * *

_LAST NIGHT…_

_Elizabeth rolled onto her back, sweaty and nearly exhausted with a complacent smile on her face. She let out a contended sigh and closed her eyes, her entire body tingling in that delicious sort of way… the sort of tingling that only Jack brought her. She opened her eyes slightly when she heard a low, throaty chuckle coming from the throat of her companion. She used what little strength she had left and rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow._

"_And what, dear captain, is so amusing?"_

_Jack chuckled again and let his eyes flutter shut. "The thing that's so amusin', darlin', is the notion that the once prim, proper an' refined Lizzie Swann now finds the famed Capt'n Jack Sparrow, pirate an' rogue, so unbelievably irresistible."_

_Elizabeth smirked. "Oh. Did I say that?"_

_Jack responded to her smirk with a very feral grin of his own. "Elizabeth, luv… ye didn't have to."_

_She smiled. "Modesty, thy name is Jack Sparrow."_

"Captain _Jack Sparrow."_

_This time, Elizabeth laughed. She scooted in closer to him and tucked her arm underneath his back, to which he responded by wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into the crook of his arm. "Well, _Captain _Jack Sparrow, you've done an excellent job at proving my point." _

_Jack chuckled again and loosely tightened his hold on her before letting the flat expanse of his palm come to rest on her backside. There were a few moments of silence as Elizabeth let her head rest on his chest. His breathing steadied and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep when he casually cleared his throat._

"_Jack?"_

"_Mmm?" he replied sleepily._

_She didn't even know why she wanted his attention, if she even had anything to ask him. She let her mind drift for a few moments before it went towards the inevitable, towards the thoughts that always seemed to wander through her mind, even when she didn't want them to._

"_Why the Caribbean?" she finally asked, faint pictures of what she imagined the kraken to look like making her feel lonely and haunted._

"_What do you mean?" he asked quietly._

"_Well… when you found out the kraken was after you… you immediately ordered the crew to make all haste to the Caribbean. Why not chose someplace closer? Would it not be a safer option?"_

_Jack sighed. "Luv, first of all, if I lived by makin' safe decisions, you'n'me would not be lyin' here right now. Secondly, the Caribbean has more anonymous little islands than any other place that I know of… the perfect place to escape from a sea-beastie, savvy?"_

"_Oh." Elizabeth let her hand travel up his bare chest, coming to rest just over the bullet-shaped scars that were all too close to his heart. "I supposed it was just because the Caribbean felt like home to you."_

_Jack shrugged. "My home goes with me wherever I go." He might have finally worked up the resolve it took to push back his rough exterior and tell her he loved her, but he wasn't ready to tell her that his home was her… he'd just let her think that he meant the Pearl, for now, at least._

"_How much longer do you suppose it will be?" she asked._

"_Not much longer at all," he whispered. "We should be seeing the first islands by dawn… just a few hours away."_

"_I see," Elizabeth said, yawning. She closed her eyes, prepared to fall asleep, when a thought crossed her mind, something she needed to say. "I've not forgotten, you know."_

"_Forgotten what?" he asked._

"_Your promise. I've not forgotten."_

"_I meant it. Where I go, you can go too."_

_Elizabeth mumbled something resembling the word "good," before letting the combination of Jack's steady heartbeat and the gentle rocking of the ship lull her to sleep._

* * *

_The next morning came as a violent intrusion. Elizabeth shot straight up in bed as a colossal shaking and bumping of the ship woke her from her slumber. She cried Jack's name and looked to her side to see that his spot in the bed had been vacated, and judging by the lack of warmth beside her, had been for some time. _

_She grabbed the sheets and hastily wrapped them around her body as she quickly padded across the room. She threw open the curtains to see… trees? Sand?_

_Her heart jumped into her throat when suddenly the door swung open and in stomped Jack. He took one look at her, wrapped only in his bunk sheets, and a wicked grin spread across his face. "Waitin' for me, eh, luv?" _

"_Jack! What is going on? Where are we?" she asked, completely ignoring his remark._

"_We've arrived," he said._

"_Arrived where, exactly?"_

"_Isla de Pelegostos," he told her. She glanced back out the window before looking back to him, watching him as he rummaged through his desk. "Get dressed Lizzie. We've a long walk ahead of us." He pulled out a small telescope. "An' bring this with ye. Good for ye to learn how to properly use one of these. Ye'll need it." Without saying anything else, he left her alone, swaying out of the room the same way he had swayed into it. _

_Elizabeth dropped the sheet and quickly found her clothes. She had gotten on her pants and boots and was just pulling her arms through the sleeves of her blouse when she heard a noise coming from the door. She felt a nervous lump rising in her throat, completely aware of what that noise was but not wanting to believe that she had actually heard it._

_With as much haste as she could muster, she began to button her blouse as she made her way to the door. She reached for the knob and, sure enough, it was locked. She was instantly hot, though of anger or embarrassment or something else, she wasn't entirely sure. _

"_Jack!" she shouted, hoping the door was just stuck and not what her better judgment told her was going on. She rattled the knob to no avail. "Jack!" she shouted again._

_Several moments passed, of which she furiously tried to open the locked door, before she heard heavy boot steps approach and Jack's voice sounded from the other side of the door._

"_Callin' for me, Miss Swann?"_

"_Jack!" she screeched, slapping her palm against the wooden door. "This door better be stuck and not what I think it is!"_

"_And what would you think it is, Miss Swann?" he asked, his voice loud, yet calm and nonchalant. _

"_Stop calling me that and unlock this door right now!"_

"_I didn't lock the door."_

_She paused. "You… didn't?"_

"_No. I had Gibbs do it for me."_

"_JACK!"_

"_Sorry, luv. But don't worry, we'll only be ashore for a few moments and then I'll be right back."_

_A fresh wave of anger and frustration washed over her and she angrily pounded on the door, infuriated that there was nothing she could do from where she was. "You are _not _leaving me here!" she shouted. "Jack, you promised!"_

"_I know…" he said slowly, a hint of hesitation in her voice. "I lied."_

"_Jack!"_

_He said nothing, and she was left with nothing but her own frustrated cries and the sound of his boots as he walked away. _

* * *

Elizabeth crossed her arms and let out several frustrated puffs of air. She knew in the long run, looking at the big picture, none of this would matter. It was such a stupid thing and she was mostly frustrated that she had allowed herself to get so frustrated in the first place.

She wasn't even all that mad that he'd locked her in, either. Sure it was irritating that he didn't trust her, that he wouldn't allow her to participate in what he allowed his entire crew to participate in. Didn't he have faith that she could take care of herself, after all they'd been through in the short time they'd spent together?

But still… what stung the most was that he _lied _to her. How was their relationship supposed to move forward, become _anything_ of any real value if he couldn't even be honest with her? True, she knew who he was, what he was, when she met him. She didn't expect him to be entirely truthful all the time… she just wanted him to be honest with her. Was that too much to ask??

She sighed. She was running out of ideas. She'd turned the entire cabin upside down looking for a spare key or something that she could use to jimmy the lock, but had found no such key and no tool good enough to unlock the door. All that was left was… she turned around, looking towards the window. It, too, was locked, but unlike the door, she had other options. She just had to find something of little importance to break it with.

Elizabeth got up off the ground and stalked towards the window, muttering curses against Jack's name under her breath. She flung open the curtains and was about to turn her attention elsewhere when something suspended it out of the corner of her eye. She blinked a few times, hardly able to believe what she was seeing… a person…? Climbing out of the waves…?

She strained her eyes to see and gasped, realizing that not only was there a person emerging from the ocean, but that it was a very familiar person. A single name escaped her lips in the form of a frazzled whisper.

"_Rosalind?"_

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	31. Reunion

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**31—REUNION**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They mean so much to me. I'd also like to apologize for the last few chapters… I haven't really been writing to the best of my ability lately, but I pledge to all of you (the most loyal group of readers a girl could ask for) that I'm turning it back around again. Anyways, thanks again for your lovely reviews! On with the chapter!

* * *

Rosalind's muscles ached with a burn she had never known before. Being the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner, she was hardly accustomed to hard work of any kind. She'd been raised a proper young lady, however, such an upbringing did not stop her from forming her own ideas and opinions. Still, she never thought she'd be completely alone off some desolate looking island in the middle of the Caribbean somewhere, with hardly any supplies or survival skills to rely on.

She barely even knew how to swim, which made getting to shore an interesting challenge. She'd managed to acquire some Will's outgrown clothing, but it was still a bit too big for her, and she was convinced as she flailed around in the water that it would pull her right down to the bottom of the ocean. She muttered any curse she could think of regarding the French tradesman who had refused to bring her any closer, but she'd do what she had to. She couldn't let Will die after all he'd done for her and she had to find Elizabeth and Jack…

The journey here (wherever _here_ was) hadn't been easy… For the most part, her disguise as a young man had held up, but there had been several instances where she swore that the men on the trading ship were leering at her. Not to mention she had absolutely no experience fighting for herself, so she mostly kept her mouth shut and tried to stay out of the way. She couldn't wait to find Elizabeth… she couldn't wait to feel safe again.

She couldn't describe the ridiculous joy she felt when her feet made contact with the sandy floor. She began to wade out of the water to the best of her ability; considering her petite, slender frame, the waves did a considerable job at making the task a difficult one, but she finally made it to shore and almost collapsed upon stepping onto the dry sand. She cast an angry glance over her shoulder towards the dinghy that had _not_ rowed her to shore only to see that it had already made its way back to the ship, which was now retreating towards the horizon.

The Black Pearl had been visible from the beach from almost a mile away, which carried its own jubilant feelings of euphoria, but now that she was this close to it she felt oddly haunted. The beach and ship were desolate with not a soul in sight. The only sounds that could be heard came from seabirds flying by overhead. Where was everyone? Why was the Black Pearl moored on the ship? _What had happened?_

An uneasy feeling washed over her as she forced her heavy, tired body forward.

"Captain Sparrow!!" she cried, the loudest decibel her voice would allow. "Elizabeth??" She paused, looking around… the expansive ocean stretched out behind her, a dense, ominous jungle before her… an open beach to one side and an abandoned ship to the other. "Perfect," she muttered, wondering what to do next. The wealthy plantation's daughter buried beneath the thick, tough façade she'd built for herself over the past several weeks was crying inside. She wasn't cut out for this. She felt utterly hopeless and was ready to plop down into the sand, frustrated, tired and alone, when a faint pounding noise caught her attention.

Rosalind spun around, checking all directions, wondering where the sound had come from. "H—Hello??" she called. "Who's there?! I demand you show yourself!!" she shouted, hoping her voice didn't sound as hesitant and shaky as it did inside her head. Still, there was no answer, but the noise persisted. She stood silently for a few moments, her hand gripped on the cutlass she'd borrowed from Will's shop (even though she hadn't the faintest idea how to use it, despite the blacksmith's best efforts to teach her).

After several moments, she caught the direction the sound was coming from and her dark eyes drifted upwards toward the large windows of the captain's quarters. Her heart fluttered with unexpected joy and her eyes widened with unsuppressed shock to see Elizabeth, frantically banging on the window with the flat palm of her hand.

"Elizabeth!" Rosalind cried, nearly jumping with the sheer delight of seeing one of the few true friends she had left in this world. "Elizabeth!! Elizabeth, I've come to find you!!" She could faintly make out her face from her spot on the beach, but she could just see her frowning and shaking her head, as if Elizabeth couldn't hear a word she was saying.

"What are you doing up there??" Rosalind nearly screamed, cupping her hands around her mouth in an effort to amplify her voice. "Are you locked in?!" She put special emphasis on each and every word, but Elizabeth still looked puzzled. After a brief moment, Rosalind watched, confused, as Elizabeth disappeared from sight.

Rosalind stood there with as much patience as she could muster and five minutes had yet to pass when, suddenly, a small washstand came crashing through the window. The sound had startled her and her heart pounded against her chest, her arms thrown over her head for protection, but when Rosalind finally heard Elizabeth's familiar voice, she looked up to see her leaning over the open hole that had once been filled with glass. A pile of broken wood lay in a heap not more than six feet away from her, and Rosalind momentarily wondered how Elizabeth had mustered the strength to hurl it towards the window, when she heard her shouting to her.

"Rosalind!" Elizabeth cried. "What are you doing here??"

"I came to find you!" Rosalind shouted, shielding her eyes from the rays of the sun with her hand as she looked up towards the window… or lack-thereof. "You and Jack, that is! It's Will, Lizzie, he's in trouble!"

Elizabeth frowned. "What sort of trouble?" she shouted back, before frowning again and shaking her head. "Never mind that now…! You can explain everything to me when I get down there! I'm going to fasten a rope out of the bed sheets and climb down!"

"Have you been locked in?!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, her nostrils flaring in exasperation. "Yes!"

"Well, where's Jack!!"

"Jack's responsible, the bloody coward!"

"What??"

"Just hold on! I've done this before, it won't take long!" Elizabeth once again disappeared from sight, leaving Rosalind to wonder exactly _when_ her friend had gathered the experience of composing makeshift ropes from bed sheets. True to her word, in just under fifteen minutes, Elizabeth appeared at the window again, this time hurling her new rope down towards the ground. It missed the beach's surface by five or so feet, but it would have to do.

Before Rosalind could warn her friend against any broken shards of glass or urge her to be careful, she was brazenly climbing out of the window and making her descent towards the ground.

Elizabeth grunted with the strain of hoisting her body weight downwards, but Rosalind encouraged her as she went until Elizabeth reached the end of her rope. "Now what?" Rosalind called up to her, still shielding her eyes from the sun.

"I've clearly been spending too much time with Jack!" Elizabeth called back. "I find myself rushing into things without thinking them through…" Rosalind would have laughed if she weren't so concerned with Elizabeth falling and breaking her neck. "I'll just have to drop the rest of the way!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Rosalind shouted. "You could break your leg… or your ankle! Or both! You could break your neck!"

"Nonsense! It's sand, how painful could it be??"

"You have been spending too much time with Jack, you're completely fearless!"

"That's not true!" Elizabeth shouted. "I'm not _completely _fearless… I'm just braver than I used to be." She hung on to her rope silently for a few moments before allowing herself to look down towards Rosalind. "Well if you refuse to let me drop, then what do you suggest I do??"

"I'll have to catch you!"

Elizabeth outwardly laughed her suggestion. "And you were concerned about me getting hurt! Rosalind, if I land on you, then we'll both get hurt and that won't do us any good!"

"Nonsense!" Rosalind cried with a smile and a wink, echoing Elizabeth's previous sentiments. "You might as well just drop, we're wasting time!"

"Fine!" Without even counting to three, Elizabeth dropped downwards and Rosalind winced as she stood forwards, opening her arms in a vain attempt to catch her. Her attempt was vain _indeed_ as they both screamed, Elizabeth landing on top of Rosalind and sending them both to the ground, sending up a hefty wave of sand as they went.

"Is anything broken?" Elizabeth asked quickly, crawling off Rosalind and kneeling in front of her.

"No… no, I don't think so." When Rosalind sat up, rubbing her sore shoulder, Elizabeth was smiling broadly at her.

"You're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Rosalind replied. "Though the same can't be said for your washstand…"

"That's fine. Jack hardly used it anyways."

"Oh. Well, good, then."

The two sat there silently for a few minutes, just grinning with relief, glee and a plethora of other emotions before they hugged and laughed like giddy children who'd consumed too much sugar.

"You're beginning to sound like him," Rosalind said as they pulled apart from one another.

"Dear God, let that not be true," Elizabeth sighed, placing both hands on either side of her face.

"Where is Jack, anyways?" Rosalind asked, looking over her shoulder towards the dark, leering jungle. There'd been no sight or sound of Jack (or anyone else, for that matter) during the ludicrous commotion they'd made and Rosalind was beginning to wonder if something serious had happened to the captain and his crew.

"I have no idea…" Elizabeth replied, shaking her head. Her tone suggested anger and frustration, but Rosalind could see a genuine hint of worry in her tea-colored eyes. "…but if he's not hurt or in trouble now, he will be when I get my hands on him."

"Oh?"

"I'll explain later. It's not important now. How's my father, is he alright?"

"Yes, yes, he's fine. But I'm afraid it's Will, he needs our help."

"Yes, you said so. What's happened?" Elizabeth asked, slowly rising to her feet and pulling Rosalind onto her own.

"He was arrested… actually, both of us were."

"_What?" _Elizabeth asked in a unstructured mixture of shock, worry and horror. "On what charges?"

"Conspiracy… aiding and abetting a wanted criminal, to name a few… two counts of it."

"It's for helping Jack… then Jack _and _myself…"

"And there's a warrant out for both of you. Issued by the king and implemented by Lord Beckett."

"_Cutler Beckett?"_ Elizabeth's eyes widened, a slight wave of nausea washing over her at the thought of such a man achieving such a lofty title.

"Yes. He's got Will locked up in prison and unless I do as he asked, he'll rot there until death claims him."

"What does he wish you to do?" Elizabeth asked, her cheeks now hot with anxious worry and her heart pounding a little harder in her chest.

"He wants Jack's compass…" Rosalind's face contorted with puzzlement. "Though he refused to explain why. If I'm to fetch it for him, he's promised a full pardon for the both of us and Jack is to receive full employment as a privateer."

"And Will goes free?"

"Yes."

"But Jack has to stay on land," Elizabeth said quietly, mostly to herself. She suddenly felt saddened, her mood dampened with despair.

"What?" Rosalind asked. "Why?"

"It's a long story, I'll explain it all later. Right now, let us just focus on finding him." Elizabeth took a deep breath in through her nose, trying to welcome to overwhelming sense of dread that was creeping through her at all that was falling apart. Had she known her hasty departure with Jack would have caused so many lives to crumble… Rosalind's, Will's, James'… she might not have left with him. But the thought of being without him hurt more than anything else combined. She didn't know what she'd do without him… or how she'd go on should anything happen to him… despite how angry she was, she still loved him with all her being.

"Where do we start looking?" Rosalind asked as the two took hands, both palms sweaty with a mixture of unwanted fear and apprehension.

"I haven't the slightest idea. Jack locked me away for a reason, though, so we'll need to be careful." The two started to walk towards the jungle, the daylight starting to disappear as they made their way forward. "Though his motives are completely unclear, I don't doubt that he has reasonable ones."

"You've spent quite a bit of time with him, I gather…" Rosalind said, a coy smile on her face as she and Elizabeth climbed over a fallen tree. She grimaced as her boot slung into a pile of unidentifiable muck.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, her cheeks blushing. "Quite a bit of time."

"Elizabeth Swann!" Rosalind exclaimed, noticing her friend's sudden embarrassment. "Have you two been… intimate??"

"Now, now," Elizabeth said, trying to muster up courage for her tone and failing miserably. "I might be a pirate, but that doesn't mean I kiss and tell."

"You've kissed?!" Rosalind nearly shouted.

Elizabeth smiled, temporarily forgetting that she was so absolutely furious with her captain, the mere thought of his lips… his rough facial hair… his calloused hands running down her sides… his… his everything… sending her into a dizzy, drunken-like stupor. But before she could indulge Rosalind's overactive imagination, she heard a fast whooshing sound and something sharp and painful pierced the back of her neck.

Her surroundings began to go fuzzy and she felt her knees buckle as she collapsed towards the ground. Before she could register what the hell was going on, she heard the rustling of bushes and Rosalind's frightened screams as everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: **Muahahaha! A lovely cliffhanger! (Though not really 'cause, come on, we've all seen the movie…)

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you all next time!

P.S. I've posted a new poll about a few new stories I'm working on... please vote!!!


	32. Premonition

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**32—Premonition**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

**A/N: **Sorry for the hopelessly infrequent updates! I'm trying to work my way through this part in the PotC trilogy as quickly as possible, but it's proving to be more difficult than I anticipated. DMC has always been my least favorite (and that's not to say I don't love it, 'cause _of course_ I do, but…) of the three movies, and writing my way through it with my own Sparrabethy spin has been, well, a challenge.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and everyone who voted in the poll! And thanks _especially_ to those of you who did both! _Sends virtual rum!_

Anyways. On with the chapter!

* * *

_It was bright. Brighter than bright, actually. When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she immediately squeezed them shut again, the sun hurt them so. Was it the sun? She wasn't entirely sure… whatever it was, it was bright. It reflected off the water surrounding the Pearl, creating a brilliant white atmosphere and the kind of warmth she typically only got from Jack, late at night, when it was just the two of them…_

"_Open your eyes, Lizzie." His voice, smooth and slow, was a welcome comfort against the harshness of her surroundings. _

"_Jack?" She did as she was told, opening her eyes and shielding them with her hand. She blinked several times and once her vision had adjusted, she saw him, looking down at her, a hand outstretched towards her. _

_She was, apparently, sitting on the deck of the ship, her legs tucked underneath her, her knees sore against the hard wood. She took his hand, curling her fingers around his own, and held on tight as he helped to hoist her to her feet._

"_Where are we?" she asked, looking around. There was not a speck of land in sight, not another soul to be seen. It was just the two of them. No Gibbs, no Marty or Cotton…_

_She watched him as he released his hold on her and sauntered across the deck to the railing. He had a bottle of rum in the other hand and he tilted his head back and drank slowly before speaking to her again._

"_Don't know," he finally answered, shrugging his shoulders in a slight, nonchalant manner. "Wherever it is ye go when it's all said an' done."_

"_You don't mean…" Elizabeth felt her breath hitch in her throat as an ominous feeling of dread made her stomach curl. "Are we… dead?"_

_Jack laughed. "One of us is, anyways." _

_She shook her head. She could feel the hot tears brimming in her eyes. "Was it the kraken?" she asked, almost hoping he wouldn't answer. _

"_Now, Lizzie," Jack stood upright again and made his way back to her. The rum bottle was gone. His hands first placed themselves on her neck, then moved up ever so slowly until his thumbs were caressing her cheeks. He smiled at her then leaned in, just barely brushing his lips against her own. "You'll be alright, luv. I have faith in ye."_

"_What??" She felt frantic now, completely out of control, which was something she decidedly did _not_ like to feel. "Jack, I don't understand!"_

"_Shh." _

"_But—"_

"_Shh…" Jack leaned his forehead against hers and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. "No one wants this to keep goin' as much as I do. But it's comin' to an end, darlin', and some day ye'll come to terms with it. But until then, just try to be strong. For me."_

_There was so much she wanted to say… she wanted to beg him not to go, to tell him she loved him and that she didn't want to live without him. She wanted to tell him that he had given so much to her, changed her life in such a completely fantastic way… but the words wouldn't come. Her hands began to tremble and she reached for him, gripping the fabric of his shirt and squeezing it until her knuckles went white._

"_I won't let you go," she said, her voice quiet and weak. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose, inhaling his musky, intoxicating scent._

_Jack sighed and kissed her forehead before leveling his mouth with her ear. "You never have to." He placed another feather-light kiss on her temple. _

_Elizabeth opened her mouth at another attempt towards speech, but all that came out was a strangled sort of sob that she'd been suppressing somewhere in the back of her throat. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to show any tears. Besides, opening her eyes would make this real. Maybe if she kept her eyes shut, she could go on pretending that this wasn't happening._

_She moved to wrap her arms around his neck, to anchor herself to him, but when she did so, she found nothing. "Jack?" Her eyes flew open and the space before her had been vacated. "Jack!" She whirled around and again, found nothing. Jack was gone._

* * *

Elizabeth wasn't sure if it was the dizzying pain creeping its way through her skull or the gentle coaxing of her name that woke her up. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, consciousness slowly returned to her before she had a chance to open her eyes.

There was something uncomfortable and itchy against her back and she was becoming more and more aware of a small breeze. Was she at sea? Or… her mind flooded back to more recent events… Rosalind, Will in trouble and then… She felt a dull sting on her neck, similar to a mosquito bite, and she lazily reached up to scratch at it. Being shot with what she could only assume was a tranquilizer of some kind was the last thing she could remember.

"Lizzie, come on, now…" the coaxing continued. "Wake up, dearie, we haven't much time."

"Jack?" The familiarity of his voice was of great comfort. She used a great deal of strength to open her eyes, only to be greeted by a very fuzzy, very distorted image of Jack. They were, from what she could tell, in a small hut made of twisted wood and branches. But how did they get there? How _long _had they been there? So many questions flashed through her mind, she didn't know which one to address first.

"Yes, darlin', it's me."

Elizabeth strained to see him and as her vision came into focus, she noticed his face. It was covered in decorative paint… was that a bug on his nose? She watched him, wide-eyed and confused, as he leaned down and helped her to sit up from what was, apparently, a bed of prickly sticks and straw.

"What's on your face?" she asked, her voice weak and not feeling like her own.

"Nothin' that won't wash off," he replied quickly, clearly in a hurry. He scooped an arm around her back. "Do ye need me to carry ye, luv?"

"No," she said, shaking her head lightly. "Just help me up." Without so much as a nod, he took hold of her hands and hoisted her off the ground.

"Come on," he said hastily, taking a firm grip on her hand and preparing to drag her off.

"Wait!" she cried, holding fast in her position. She stared at him, ignoring the puzzled look on his face as she made a point to look him in the eyes. She took a step closer and wrapped her available arm around his torso, letting her nose bury in his collar. "I had the most awful dream about you."

Jack sighed, sounding almost annoyed. "There, there," he said flatly, patting her back. "Now come on, Lizzie, we haven't a lot of time before they come back." He pulled her out of the small hut. A sharp pain stung her right between the eyes when they stepped into the sunlight and she blinked several times to let her vision adjust.

"Oh, how I've missed your sensitivity, Jack," she muttered as he pulled her along. "And who are 'they?'"

"The Pelegostos tribe," he explained. "Isla de Pelegostos was the unfortunate spit of land we happened on first. And by the way, darlin', I genuinely apologize for leavin' you on the Pearl after I promised you could come along."

"I'll be mad at you later," she huffed. "For now, I'll trust that you have a very good reason for doing so. I take it that we have more important things to worry about."

He turned around and smirked at her as they carefully made their way around more huts, all the same but unlike anything she'd ever seen before. "That's my girl, I knew there was a reason for my fondness of ye." She responded only by glaring at him.

"You certainly don't worry about taking in the scenery," she sniped, trying to keep up with him. Surrounding the village were a series of canyons and mountains, covered in the most luscious green scenery she had ever witnessed.

"Next time," he replied. "More important things, remember?"

"Would informing me as to what is going on be on the agenda of more important things?"

Jack took in a deep breath. "Do you remember the story I told ye about the flesh-eating villagers?"

"No!"

"Well, these are them, an' last time I was 'ere, I used my cunning to convince them of me sainthood an' as it turns out, they feel that I should… share the wealth, so to speak."

"Jack." Elizabeth halted in her steps, keeping her grip on his hand. "Are you trying to tell me that these people want to _eat_ you?"

Jack looked away from her for a brief moment before looking back, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, and saying, "Pretty much." He went to pull her along again, but she stood fast.

"Can you just stop for a moment??"

"I knew you would be the death of me," he muttered, but obeyed her wishes and stood still.

"Where are the others?"

"Don't know."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Where's Rosalind?"

Jack's brows furrowed. "Last time I checked, she was in Port Royal with dear, sweet, William, but your inquisition leads me to believe otherwise."

"She's here. Or _was _here."

"Of course."

"She's in trouble, Jack," Elizabeth said. "Cutler Beckett has landed in Port Royal and he's arrested Will." Jack made a face and groaned audibly. "I take it you've heard of him?"

"I've had the displeasure of making his acquaintance, aye." He paused and sighed. "And Will's in trouble, eh? Fancy that. William in trouble."

"There's also a warrant for your head and mine, and Rosalind's if she doesn't comply with his wishes. But he's made allowances for our freedom if we return to Port Royale with your compass."

"Me compass?"

"Yes. Jack, what would he want with your compass?"

Jack grimaced again before taking her hand. "Let's focus on gettin' out of here and then we'll worry about my compass, alright, darlin'?"

"Some stories you haven't told me yet, hmm, Jack?" she asked as they began walking again. "Where are we headed now?"

"First to find supplies and then to find the others and then anywhere but _here_."

"Where are we to find supplies?" she asked.

Jack tightened his grip on her hand and quickly ducked into one of the huts, making a point to look over both shoulders before he did so. Once again, Elizabeth's eyes struggled to adjust to the change in light and she was greeted with the awful stench of what could only be rotting flesh. She looked up to see a large, machete-like weapon hanging from the ceiling of the hut, complete with blood, human hair and a small swarm of flies.

"Watch yer head, or someone else will watch it for you," Jack muttered, bending down and rummaging through the piles of goods that had clearly been traded.

"Where would they have gotten these?"

Jack continued to rummage before proclaiming a hearty _AHA _and tossing a small, metal canister in her direction. She flipped it over to see the emblem of the East India Trading Company, just in time to hear Jack say, "Cutler Beckett, our beloved benefactor. Taking over the Caribbean, one cannibal at a time."

"A charming man, I take it," Elizabeth replied, watching as Jack slung a rope over his shoulder.

"You've not met 'im, then." It was a statement, not a question.

"Not personally, no. But I've stories of his arrogance are as legendary as stories of your, as you put it, _cunning._" Jack chuckled. "My father never liked him. He always said that power in the wrong hands was as dangerous as any weapon."

"Speaking of dear Cutler directly, was he then? Smart man." Elizabeth smiled. She missed her father.

She turned around and began to rummage alongside Jack, pulling out anything that could be useful and was small enough to fit into the pockets of her breeches. "So why was I separated from the others?"

"I told them to keep an eye out for you," Jack quickly explained. "The Pelegostos, that is. I told 'em that if a fair-haired maiden of your description was found wondering around the island, to set 'er aside and I'd deal with 'er later."

"Deal with her later??"

"Big picture, Lizzie."

"Right," she replied, breathing in through her nose. "You knew I'd escape, then, hmm?"

"O'course."

"Then why bother locking me up in the first place?"

"Just wanted to keep you occupied, my dear," he retorted. "I think this'll be enough," he said, straightening himself and adjusting the rope around his shoulder. "Are ye ready?"

She took in a steady breath and nodded. "I trust you."

"Good." Again, he took her time, though this time it was without the frantic sense of urgency he'd been using before. She grinned at him and together they turned around.

However, the sight that greeted them made her gasp and she heard Jack mutter a curse under his breath, for staring back at them was the entirety of the Pelegostos tribe.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, now go review!

I'll leave the poll open for a little while longer, just for anyone who hasn't voted yet and still wants to.

Thanks again! See you next time!


	33. Will's Interlude

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**33—Will's Interlude**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em coming and I'll keep up with the updates! I apologize to those of you who severely dislike Will because there's a lot of him in this mini-chapter. (That's right, this chapter is an interlude of sorts, to check up on Mr. Turner and see what he's up to.)

I posted a new oneshot (based on the poll results) called _An Unfortunate Twist of Fate._ It's of course Sparrabeth, so check it out!

Thanks again!

* * *

It was a balmy, sweaty sort of night in Port Royale.

Will sat in the corner of his cell, pondering on all he could possible ponder on. His mind drifted back and forth between all that had happened in recent weeks, mostly on the whereabouts of Rosalind. Before her departure, she had assured him of her safety and encouraged him not to worry, but he couldn't help himself. With so much time just sitting around, worrying came frequently and without trouble.

He despised the fact that Beckett was using her as a tool for his own gain and he feared what would _really _happen upon her return. He knew little of Beckett and had no previous encounters on which to base his judgment, but he doubted that a pardon would be granted to himself, Rosalind, Elizabeth _and _Jack.

Especially Jack.

While he didn't necessarily consider Jack a friend, and while any romantic inclinations he had for Elizabeth were beginning to wane, he still cared a great deal about her safety and happiness. And if there were two things he could be certain of in a vast world of ambiguity, it was that Jack kept her safe… and made her very, very happy. He knew a pardon on her name wouldn't mean anything to her if she was forced to watch the man she loved dangle from a noose shortly afterwards.

And then there was Rosalind.

In many respects, Will was entirely unsure of his feelings for her. Some of the time he regarded her as the cherished little sister he never had but had always wanted, someone to take care of. However, more often than not, he felt a silly adolescent boy when thinking about her. His feelings were in no way close to _love_… but he did care about her a great deal, and his constant worrying about her only confirmed to him that those feelings would not be diminishing any time soon.

His thoughts and feelings for Rosalind were also quite troubling, for he had no idea how he was _supposed _to feel about someone like her. With his feelings for Elizabeth not entirely gone, he felt conflicted, almost like they were their own individual, completely foreign to himself.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, ignoring the incessant chattering and plotting of his fellow prisoners, resting against the stone wall behind him. He silently prayed for whatever God existed (his faith had been compromised in recent days) that sleep would find him soon when he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes opened lazily in the event that it would suit him to feign sleep, all the while listening carefully.

The footsteps clearly did not belong to the heavy boots of one of the prison guards. They were not light enough to belong to a woman, not even light enough to belong to the short-statured Beckett. He sat there listening, feeling rather foolish and helpless, as the footsteps grew closer. Only when the darkened frame of Governor Swann appeared before his bars, keys in hand, did he open his eyes fuller.

"You must come quickly," the governor said quietly, almost inaudibly, as he stuck the key in the lock and turned. The door creaked and groaned as it swung open and Will did not take the time to ask questions. He quickly heaved himself onto his feet and preceded the older man down the dark hallway, ignoring the chorus of pleas and begs from the prisoners he was leaving behind.

"Where are we going?" Will whispered, slowing his pace slightly so as to allow the governor to catch up.

"_We _are not going anywhere," Weatherby replied. He was out of breath and clearly anxious. "I am sending you on an errand of sorts."

"An errand?"

"Yes," Weatherby sighed. "To find my daughter and bring her home safely."

"Rosalind has been sent to do that," Will reminded him, a bit irritated. "Have you no faith in her?"

"I have faith that she believes she can accomplish Beckett's wishes," Weatherby replied. "And I have faith that she will try. But word has already reached England of Beckett's demands and her father wrote me just this afternoon of his fear over her safety." Will inwardly questioned the man's fear for her safety when he abandoned her in Port Royale, but said nothing. "Bring them _both_ back and you will be rewarded."

"I am not in need of one," Will replied. "And what of Jack?"

"I don't care about Jack Sparrow," he said, rather coldly. "Just find the girls."

"You don't care that Jack makes Elizabeth happy?" Will replied, not afraid to challenge him.

"I care a great deal about my daughter's happiness. I believe that she will easily find it elsewhere." He paused, apparently just as unwilling to back down as Will. "Now hurry. We haven't much time."

They walked the rest of the way without speaking until they were outside. Will spotted the carriage right away, and continued his silence as Governor Swann opened the door and practically shoved him inside. Will would wonder later if it was out of haste for Elizabeth or anger towards himself.

Will looked across to the almost empty seat in front of him… sitting there, obviously put in place by the governor, was a pistol. That would certainly come in handy…

The carriage ride was short and bumpy, giving Will hardly enough time to adjust to what was happening. He had the basic assumptions of where he was going. He knew his task, but barely knew how he was going to go about accomplishing it. Tortuga came to mind… that would be a likely place to find Jack, and finding Jack meant finding Elizabeth, and hopefully Rosalind.

The horses came to a quick stop and Will realized they were at the docks. However, a better idea had just started to formulate in the back of Will's mind. To find a pirate, he'd have to think like one. Before the governor had the chance to dismount from the driver's seat, Will quietly slipped out the opposite side and headed back towards town.

It didn't take long to reach his destination. Hiding in the shadows provided by the clouds obscuring the moonlight, he watched the room on the second floor, watching and waiting as Beckett's silhouette moved about. The climb to the balcony outside his office would not be easy, but at least he could recount upon his memories of commandeering a ship to help him.

Finally, all light retreated from the room. With a heavy sigh caught somewhere between apprehension and regret, he made his move.

There would be no going back after this…

* * *

**A/N: **A nice cliffhanger to be resolved in a later chapter!

Thanks for reading, even though it was a mini-chapter. Now go review!

And don't forget to check out _An Unfortunate Twist of Fate_!

See you next time!


	34. A Not So Clean Escape

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**34—A Not-So-Clean Escape**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! You guys are great!

I used a little bit of creative license in this chapter (a polite way of saying I blatantly ignored some technicalities of both the movie and, well, gravity/weight), but it was necessary to not just rehash everything that happened in DMC. I know you'll all be thinking _"that would never happen!"_ but it moves the story forward and, hopefully, makes it more interesting. So yes, I know some of this stuff is impossible, even form Disney, but bear with me.

Thanks again! Hope you like it!

* * *

It had been nearly an hour since a group of scantily clad natives, complete with loin cloths and tribal painting, had dragged Elizabeth (kicking and screaming) in one direction and Jack (who, in Elizabeth's point of view, was disturbingly passive) in the other. Or at least she _thought _it had been an hour. She wasn't really sure… it was quite difficult to tell what time it was from her current position.

They brought her (just in time, as a matter of fact) to join what was left of Jack's crew in their cages. Just over a dozen men were left, including her and Rosalind, who she was relieved to see hadn't been hurt. She immediately asked Gibbs what had happened to the others and immediately wished she hadn't.

She screamed her cries of protest at their captors, watching helplessly as the cage was hoisted high above a ravine, until her throat stung. Helplessly, she plopped down and let her legs dangle from the open spaces between the bones, frustrated with her thoughts. She could hardly believe all that had happened in the course of a short day, but no matter what she did she couldn't escape her reality. Six men had been placed in the cage opposite them. Seven were in their own cage, including Rosalind, Gibbs, Marty, Cotton and herself.

"This is hopeless," Rosalind finally uttered, breaking the silence. Elizabeth popped an eye open, shielding it from the sun with her hand, looking up at her as she knelt beside her. "Jack always manages to get himself out of trouble," she said. "What would he do?"

Elizabeth smiled, only slightly. "I wish I knew," she sighed. "I've been attempting to think like him since they tied us up here and I've come to one conclusion."

"Oh?" Elizabeth instantly mourned the hopefulness in her friend's voice.

"It's impossible. No one can think like Jack," she said quietly.

"Oh." Rosalind was silent for a few moments, breathing in deeply. "Where did they take him, then?"

"Back to the main village, I suppose," she sighed again.

"What are they planning on doing to him there?"

"They'll cook 'im and eat 'im," Gibbs cut in.

"Eat him?" Rosalind sounded horrified as her eyes grew wider.

"Although knowing Jack, he's probably further along with a plan of escape than we are," Elizabeth said nonchalantly.

"Aye," Gibbs agreed. "He escaped just fine last time he was here."

"They tried to eat him last time?" Elizabeth asked. "Then why would he stop here again?"

"Asked him that meself," Gibbs answered with a wry chuckle. "Said his priorities 'ad changed and he was most concerned with gettin' ye onto dry land an' out of harm's way… whatever that means. An' he also seemed to think he could talk 'is way out of it. Probably can… Jack's got better negotiatin' skills than any navy man I've ever seen."

"That he does," Elizabeth said. "Well, even if he does get himself out of it, he won't have the means to save all of us. We have to get ourselves out of this."

"How do we do that?" Marty asked with sudden interest. Elizabeth looked up to see that all eyes were on her, including those from the other cage, and suddenly she felt very self-conscious. She suddenly felt a great deal of pressure, and not just to prove herself as a worthy member of the crew, but to get everyone out safely.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she thought, begging any god in heaven for a burst of inspiration. But the only thing she felt was discomfort, and she subconsciously shifted positions. As she did so, she felt something lightly poke her side, and she suddenly remembered the supply hut. She also remembered shoving whatever useful tools she could find into her pockets, including a small, but very sharp, dagger, complete with leather shield.

"Where'd you get that?" Gibbs asked.

"I borrowed it," Elizabeth replied, taking his hand as he helped her to her feet. She balanced herself before beginning a steady climb up the side of the cage to the top, where a series of makeshift ropes were wound together, dangling the cage in mid-air. "If we can manage to break these bones…" she explained, "…here, here and here… the opening will be big enough to climb through."

"An' then what?" one of the other men quipped. "If ye haven't noticed, there's no place for us to go."

"If _you_ haven't noticed, we're anchored to that bridge up there," Elizabeth whispered loudly. "All we have to do is climb up that rope and to the bridge and we're free. And if you have a better idea, I suggest you share it." She looked around at the blank faces staring at her. "Well? Are you with me or not?"

Rosalind smirked. "You're more capable of thinking like Jack than you realize, Lizzie."

Elizabeth smiled before turning to the other cage. "Do any of you have a dagger or a knife on you?" Not surprisingly, all six of them had at least one on their person. "If you score some of the bones, they'll be easier to break," she suggested, beginning to score several herself.

It was grueling work, but eventually she managed to cut halfway through three different bones. She then crawled down, allowing Gibbs and Cotton to use their sheer strength to snap the weakened bones in half, pulling them out from where they had been jointed together. The men in the opposite cage finished seconds afterwards and upon Elizabeth's orders to keep quiet for risk of being caught, they slowly began to climb upwards, one by one.

Rosalind, who hadn't any experience with this sort of thing (compared to Elizabeth's _slight_ experience with this sort of thing) was all too happy to accept Gibbs' offer of holding onto his shoulders as he climbed. It might have been embarrassing, but reality was reality… she didn't have the upper-arm strength or the calloused hands to make it on her own. Marty, too, whose short arms and legs would have given out quickly, clung to Vincent, another in their cage who was strongest next to Gibbs.

The ascent was slow and Elizabeth had to ignore the burn as she climbed hand-over-fist. "Careful, men," she urged, trying her best to be encouraging _and _firm at the same time. "It'll take all of us to prepare the Pearl to leave, even if the tide's started to come in."

"Actually," replied Leech, a man from the other cage, "we've more than enough. About six or so will do the job."

Elizabeth halted, her eyes wide with a frightening realization. She locked eyes with Leech, who had apparently made the same realization.

"Hurry!" she screamed, looking down at her own group as the race started. She knew they had a disadvantage, with two of their own forced to carry another, but they had to try. She would never forgive herself if she lost Jack the Pearl, even if he himself was able to get over it. Besides, the ship was their only chance at survival. Otherwise, they'd all likely be eaten, a fate she would not, _could _not, accept.

She was just starting to get ahead of the other group when she felt a slight swaying from the bridge above her. She stopped again as she looked upwards and, to her utter horror, a Pelegostos guard was making his way across to the other side. _"STOP!"_ she whispered, just loudly enough to capture her opponents' attention. Her order was quietly echoed amongst the crew as all came to a halt.

For a few moments, everyone was silent and absolutely still, until Elizabeth heard a snicker from the other side. Her mouth dropped open in terror as she noticed the others were going ahead with their climb, cheating, as she should have expected.

"Lousy, good-for-nothing _pirates_!" she hissed.

"You're going to get us all killed!" Rosalind added, narrowing her eyes to angry slits.

Elizabeth focused on Leech, who had no doubt taken over as their leader, as he was first on the rope. Suddenly, she heard him gasp, and looked up to see a black, hairy, spider, almost half as large as his hand, making his way down his arm. He was clearly terrified, a fact which she would have to find amusement in later, should they make it out alive.

"Spider!" Leech cried. "SPIDER!" His fear caused him to lose his grip, which Elizabeth instantly knew would be deadly for the rest of the men with him. As he fell, he grabbed onto the shirt of another, trying to catch himself, but all it did was create panic and chaos amongst them. In rapid fashion, they all started falling, screaming as they plummeted below to their deaths.

Elizabeth looked down, her jaw still hanging open, wide-eyed, to see Gibbs and a few others wince at the fate of their crew-mates. Then, returning to more pressing matters, she shot her head upwards, instantly catching the eyes of the guard. He had seen _everything_. A brief, silent moment passed before he ran, screaming for help in the other direction.

"HURRY!" Elizabeth shouted. And hurry they did. In a fashion that astounded her she reached the top. With three swift punches (and a whole new onslaught of pain, more of which she would have to ignore and fuss over later), she was able to get through one plank of the bridge, allowing more ease and breaking away two more, leaving a big enough gap for everyone to crawl through.

She knelt at the top, helping Rosalind climb up and over Gibbs' shoulders. Once Gibbs was through, he helped her get the rest through, and together, they started to run in the opposite direction from where the guard had gone.

"Come on!" she cried, making sure everyone was in toe as they ran. They ran until they reached a small clearing and she saw, much to her delight and surprise, Jack. Unfortunately, she had little time to rejoice, as he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, a large pole strapped to his back and an assortment of what appeared to be tropical fruit beginning to shift his weight in a less-than-ideal direction.

He caught her eyes right as he stared to waver and, using what little strength and energy she had left over from the climb, ran at him at full speed. She managed to grab onto a small, loose bit of rope at the last possible second, pulling him with a force strong enough to knock them both over. Jack landed on top of her with a magnificent _thud_, to which he immediately rolled to the side.

"Lizzie…" he trailed off. "…there are no words."

"Coming from you, Jack," she panted, completely out of breath, "that's a shock."

"Can ye move, luv?" he asked. He was on his side, wrapped up in rope like a caterpillar in a cocoon, facing her.

"I think so," she replied, allowing her eyes to close, just for a moment.

"Good. Then if ye don't mind…?"

She popped an eye open and looked at him, glancing up to see that the others were catching up.

"Mother of God, Jack!" Gibbs panted.

"How lucky can one man possibly be?" Rosalind wondered aloud, placing her hands on her hips.

Elizabeth chuckled and forced her tired body up onto her knees. She pulled out the dagger, pleased she had it for it had come in handy yet again, and, as quickly as she could, sliced through the ropes that bound Jack to the pole.

"I'll ask later how you got wrapped up in this," she said as he shrugged them from his body.

"Good," he replied, climbing onto his feet. "I take it we've got an escapin' to do?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"Dead."

"Oh," he grimaced. Before another word could be said, a faint chorus of shouts and cries from the Pelegostos was heard. "Time to go then!" Jack instructed, taking over command. Elizabeth has expected him to once they found him, but she had to admit, she didn't mind playing the role of captain in his absence. It was oddly liberating and somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if Jack would allow her the same authority again sometime.

Following Jack, who seemed to know his way around the island as if he had grown up there, they all made their way towards the beach. Elizabeth nearly stumbled when her feet hit the soft sand, for it was a far cry from the hardened terrain she had gotten used to. A few others did stumble, but they were quickly on their feet again as the tribe seemed to be gaining on them.

"Hurry, men!" Gibbs shouted, quickly wading into the water as they approached the Black Pearl. "All of ye to work!"

"We done some of it for you!" It was then that Elizabeth became aware of the one-and-only Pintel, one of Barbossa's former crew mates, a rope from the ship slung over his shoulder.

"Aye! What with knowin' ye'd be comin' back for it an' all!" Her head shot up to see Ragetti, Pintel's dubious sidekick, already on board.

"How did you two get here?!" she snapped, knowing full well their real intentions.

"Later, Lizzie," Jack quickly said, practically pushing her towards the ship. "Ye can fuss over 'em all ye want once yer aboard." She glared daggers at Pintel, who was closest to her, before silently agreeing with Jack by beginning to climb. She took hold of Rosalind's hand and together, the both of them made their way up the ship.

Jack was last on board. Elizabeth stopped at the rail, peering down at him as he climbed. She was finally able to breath, whole-heartedly relieved at knowing that they'd made a not-so-clean escape, but an escape nonetheless.

About halfway up, Jack paused, turning back to face the clearly dejected Pelegostos. "Alas, my children!" he cried. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn't resist a moment to indulge his legend. "Today is the day that you almost caught—" She didn't bother to stifle her giggles as a wave came crashing against the side of the ship, interrupting Jack's ego and soaking him to boot.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! I'm not very good at the action stuff, so I hope that was okay.

Thanks again! Now go review!

See you next time!


	35. Jack's Compass

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**35—Jack's Compass**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! You guys really make writing so worthwhile and make me feel like updating more frequently, which hopefully I'll be able to do now that it's summer break!

I took some more creative license in this chapter, regarding Jack's compass and where he got it.

Thanks again! On with the chapter!

* * *

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" Elizabeth asked, not bothering to hide the silly grin on her face as she helped Jack overboard. He glared at her, but said nothing. Instead, he shook his wild mane of hair, delighting in the squeal she made as water droplets sprayed all over her. "Wretch," she muttered.

"I may be a wretch, Lizzie, but I'm a wretch that you care a great deal about," he said, winking and smirking at her. Before she could come up with a clever comeback, Rosalind intervened, her urgency clearly evident with the worried expression on her face.

"Yes, well, as adorable as your banter is, we have more important things to worry about," she interjected. "Remember Will?"

"Oh, yes," Jack sighed, seeming like he couldn't care in the slightest bit where Will was or what he was up to, but Elizabeth knew better. She'd spent enough time with him and gotten to know him well enough to know he was willing to help. But he'd never admit it out loud, at least not in front of anyone but her. "In jail, is he then?" He sauntered off towards the wheel as the crew madly dashed about, carrying on with their escape. Rosalind huffed out an angry breath of air and Elizabeth quietly followed behind, wondering if Jack would do the right thing without having to prod him.

"Yes, for helping you, no less!" Rosalind cried, trailing after him as he made his way up the stairs to the quarterdeck. "And he'll hang whenever Beckett sees fit if we don't make all haste back to Port Royale with _your _compass."

"Me compass?" Jack quirked an eyebrow and Elizabeth watched him from the railing, her arms crossed, knowing he was not as ignorant as he pretended to be. Jack knew _exactly _why Beckett wanted his compass. He sighed, then groaned, when Rosalind continued, her voice seeming to escalate in pitch as she went on.

"Yes, something so trivial will save Will's life, so you see, there's really no reason why we shouldn't be on our way there right now!"

"For God sakes woman, take a deep breath," Jack encouraged, his dark eyes trained out on the sea. "Don't worry yer pretty little head, Will won't swing from the gallows."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because Beckett needs 'im as leverage. Besides, for the time bein', Lizzie's pop is still supreme authority on that sorry little excuse for a settlement, an' I can guarantee you bloody, dear William is safe."

"You don't know that!" Rosalind screeched. "For all we know, Will is already dead, and as soon as we make it back to Port Royale, we'll all hang as well!"

"Well, then that's not a very good reason to be moseyin' on back, then, is it?"

"Jack…" Elizabeth interrupted, her voice carrying a tone of warning.

"What does it matter anyways?" Rosalind asked, crossing her arms. "All Beckett wants is a stupid little thing and we're all granted pardons. What's so special about your bloody compass that you're willing to let a man die for it?"

"Cotton, wheel," Jack said, looking over his shoulder casually at the other man. Once the wheel was secured in Cotton's hands, he turned on Rosalind. "First of all, I never said I was goin' to let Will die, did I? Second of all, it is _not_ a 'stupid little thing,' as you so kindly put it. And third of all, if you must know, it was my mother's, and I'd rather be dead with a knife in me back than see it in the hands of Cutler Beckett. Savvy?"

Without another word and without giving Rosalind the chance to respond or apologize, he stomped off down the steps. The slam of his cabin door could be heard from any point on the ship.

"I didn't mean to offend him," Rosalind said quietly, turning to Elizabeth, her eyes large and sad. "I just wanted to save Will."

"It's not you," Elizabeth said, sighing, as she gently squeezed her friend's upper arms. "He's always this frustrating and mysterious. Give me some time to work on him, I'm sure we'll find another solution."

Rosalind nodded meekly, watching Elizabeth follow where Jack had gone.

* * *

Elizabeth was pleased to find that the cabin door hadn't been locked, a clear sign that Jack wasn't so upset that he wanted to be completely alone. When she stepped inside, however, she made sure to turn the latch so that they wouldn't be disturbed.

She followed the trail of sopping wet clothing and small puddles left in Jack's wake, finding him at his trunk, struggling to pull his wet boots off.

"Sit down," she said quietly. He glared, though she knew it wasn't directed at her. He sat without saying anything, holding his leg up when she knelt to help him get his boots off. When she got the second one off, she placed them both neatly at the foot of the trunk. She kept her position, crouched down in front of him, waiting for him to start talking. When he finally did, it wasn't what she thought he would say, though she was hardly surprised.

"I see you took a bit o' creativity with the window, there," he said, tilting his head in the direction of the gaping hole she'd left.

"Yes, well, if you hadn't locked me in here to begin with, we wouldn't be experiencing this lovely breeze, now would we?" she said, grinning at him.

"I suppose I deserved that."

"Yes, I suppose you did."

He sighed, remaining silent for another several minutes before speaking again. "Ye know, Lizzie, you make the worst choices when it comes to friends. William. Norrington. _Her_."

"I chose you, didn't I?" she replied, gently taking a hold of several of his fingers, bringing each one to her mouth and kissing them softly.

"Suppose you did," he said with a small grin. "Come sit, Lizzie." She rose to her feet and sat on his knee, ignoring the sopping wet breeches he was still wearing as she leaned into him. "I meant what I said, ye know. I've no intention of lettin' the boy die."

"I know," she said. "But Rosalind doesn't know you like I do."

_No one knows me like you do_, he wanted to say, but didn't. "Has she always been such a pain in the—"

"She's feisty, that's all!" Elizabeth said, smiling. "And besides, I thought you liked that in a woman."

"I like it in _some _women," he corrected, holding a finger up. "In others, it's annoyin'."

"I see."

"Yes, I really got the compass from me mum," he said. Elizabeth's eyes widened a little bit. Jack's ability to read her mind was always incredible, if not frightening.

"I never doubted that you did," she said quietly, her eyes subconsciously falling down to the bullet scars on his chest. "But why would Beckett want it? I understand the emotional significance it hold's for you, but why would _he _care?"

Jack sighed. "Go an' fetch it for me, Lizzie, while I put on some dry trousers."

She did as she was told, jumping off his lap and moving towards the door where she had last seen his effects lying in a heap besides his shirt. She quickly untied the compass from his belt, holding it carefully in her hands now that she understood how important it was to him, and turning around towards Jack. She grinned ear to ear, catching a quick flash of his bare bottom as he pulled on a dry pair of breeches.

He turned around and caught her grinning at him, and he smirked. "Like what you see, darlin'?" he asked.

"I always do," she said coyly, walking to him and holding out the compass to him.

"Good to know," he replied. "You hold it, luv," he instructed, walking away from her towards the other end of the cabin. "When I say so, open the lid and tell me which direction it points in."

"What good will that do?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Trust me." She couldn't argue with that, for she (almost) always did.

He stopped about a foot away from his desk. "Now, Lizzie."

She flipped open the lid of the compass, her eyes flashing to the name _Captain Isabela Morrego _engraved in the lid. Scrawled beneath her name was _Captain Jack Morrego Sparrow._ She smiled inwardly, wishing she could have met Jack's mother, for he was clearly more than proud to be her son.

Her thoughts returning to matters at hand, her eyes moved downward to where the needle was spinning in circles. She watched it for several brief moments before it began to slow down, stopping in Jack's general direction. "It stopped," she reported. "I hope there's a point to all this," she said, looking up at him.

"What direction, then, Lizzie?" he asked.

"Northwest."

He grinned, a big, toothy, feral grin. "Really??"

"Yes, really. But this doesn't explain a thing to me, Jack."

"It explains a lot to me!" he said, the grin never fading.

"Jack…"

"Alright, fine," he said, waving his hand at her. He marched a few passes in the opposite direction. "Now tell me the direction, Lizzie."

She let out a groan of discontent and looked down at the compass, which swayed slightly in Jack's direction again before settling dead on him.

"Northeast…" her voice was uneasy. "It points to you? I don't understand."

Jack, his silly smile still plastered on his face, walked to her, clasping his hands over hers and over the compass. "This compass, Lizzie, is a unique compass. It does not point north."

"Yes, Jack, I already know that."

"This compass," he continued, "points to whatever it is you want most in this world. And apparently, whatever it is _you _want most in this world is me."

"Please," she snorted. "It's a coincidence, that's all."

"So good for me ego, luv, really, but watch this." He jumped several paces to the left. The needle followed him. After a moment's pause, he moved quickly behind her. She whirled around, watching him, then looking down to see that, sure enough, the needle pointed right at him. "Believe me now?"

"That's incredible!" she admitted. "Where did your mother get this compass?"

"Bartered it from a priestess not far from here," he said. "She left it with me in Shipwreck Cove all those years ago an' it's been in my care ever since." He moved close to her again, looking down with childlike glee to see that the needle of the compass, while in her hands, was still pointing at _him_.

Her eyes, all serious now, went from his face to the compass, then back to his face again. She gently placed the compass in his hands. "Where does it point to when you hold it?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Jack smiled at her. "Where do you think, Lizzie? Come see for yerself." She stifled a smirk, her heart nearly pounding in her chest, as she peered over his hands and down at the compass. The needle rested, unwavering and steady, in her direction. "How do you think I was able to find you on that island, Lizzie? Out of all the huts they could have place you in… I found ye on the first try without a problem."

"You arrogant man!" she cried, playfully swatting him in the arm. "You had me hold the compass and _assumed_ it would point to you!"

Jack laughed before shrugging nonchalantly. His eyes, now seeming boyish and innocent, darted from the floor to her, before purposely avoiding her line of vision. "Hoped it would, anyways."

"Oh, Jack…" It wasn't the frank _I love you_ that most women would have preferred to hear, but coming from Jack, it was as much a declaration of love than the words themselves. She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, firmly pressing her lips against his. She felt him smile into their kiss, prompting a smile from her in return. When the need for air interrupted her desire to kiss the very soul out of him, she pulled away, her eyes still half-closed in a passionate daze.

"So you see then," he said, slowly opening his eyes, another silly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "why Beckett would want something as simple as a compass."

"Yes, it makes sense now. But a compass like this in the hands of Beckett could be disastrous, for many," she concluded.

"Precisely. A compass like this could be dangerous in the hands of anyone, however, so we best keep this between you an' me, at least for the time bein'," he explained.

"We'll have to find another way to save Will, then," Elizabeth said, sighing. "Any ideas?"

"O'course," he said, nodding. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

* * *

**A/N: **Was going to make this chapter longer, but I think that's a good place to stop for now.

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	36. Unromantic Romance

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**36—UNROMANTIC ROMANCE**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They make me smile. :)

For this chapter, I wanted to return to some silly, romantic nothingness, at least for part of it, and even a little bit of role-reversal between Jack and Elizabeth. Hopefully I didn't go overboard with mush.

This chapter is very short, but ripe with Sparrabeth-y goodness. Big things are in store for our favorite pirate couple!

Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

It was the middle of the afternoon, and sleep had at long last found her. And not the kind of hazy, drug-induced sleep inflicted by a cannibal's dart, either. It was the kind of blissful, post-sex-with-Jack sleep that she so enjoyed. It was heavy and peaceful and… his moustache was tickling her neck.

"Mr. Sparrow," she said in a heavy, tired whisper, "if you wish to keep all of your digits, you would be well-advised to let me sleep."

He chuckled and she smiled, rolling onto her back and rubbing the sleep out of the corner of her eyes before she opened them to look at him. He was smirking down at her with his trademark grin and she couldn't help but laugh again.

"When you say _digits, _dear Lizzie, do you mean just fingers and toes or—"

"You know full well what I meant," she smiled, brushing the tops of her fingertips across his bare thigh. She then let her hand drift upwards, grazing his bicep and stopping to squeeze lightly, delighting in the satisfied grin and slight moan he gave.

"Yer ticklin' me," he said, his tone relaxed and unguarded. She loved it when he was like that.

Elizabeth was quiet for a few moments before her thoughts drifted to a more serious matter. "We have to be more careful, Jack."

"Of ticklin'?" he asked, his brow quizzical.

"I could wind up pregnant if we do not exercise more caution," she said, "and my belly, fat and swollen with _your _child is the last thing we need to worry about." She watched him as his lips tightened in the slightest of ways, his forehead wrinkling and his eyebrows knotting together. His eyes stared off at something unknown and he was quiet for so long that she had to prod him back to reality. "Jack?"

When she spoke his name, he relaxed again, even smiling. He splayed his hand flat across her bare stomach. "S'not too awful a notion, is it, luv?"

"Jack Sparrow pondering children!" she said playfully. "I've never heard of such a thing."

He shrugged. "You've never asked." His voice was completely serious. Her heart quickened a little, though with excitement or apprehension, she wasn't entirely sure.

"You're serious?"

"I'm entirely serious," he confirmed. Upon seeing the mild panic on Elizabeth's face, he grinned and swiftly kissed her forehead. "M'not sayin' we should get at it right now, but maybe someday—"

"Someday," she agreed, placing two fingers over his mouth. He smiled and kissed them lightly before rolling away from her, onto his back. He let out a hefty, contented groan.

"Bet that was a conversation ye never thought ye'd have with the likes o' me."

"I must admit, it did take me by surprise," she told him. "At least, I didn't think you would be the one to suggest domesticity first." _Then again_… she thought to herself, to say Jack was full of surprises was a complete understatement. "I don't know that I'm ready to be a mother yet."

Without thinking, it seemed, Jack continued. "Are ye ready for other things?"

Elizabeth sat up, curious, and looked down at him, the sheets wrapped around her torso. "Such as?"

"Let's get hitched, Lizzie."

"What?" she laughed, half our of disbelief and half out of nervousness.

"Married. I and you. You and I. _Us_." She continued to stare at him in disbelief, her mouth half open. Jack watched her, more than amused, and shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, we're practically common law as it is, Lizzie. Might as well make it official."

Elizabeth turned her back to him, not sure that she wanted him to see the look on her face. She closed her mouth and breathed in through her nose as something inside her chest began to hurt.

"I'll take your stunned silence as a _no_ then," Jack sighed.

"'Might as well make it official?'" Elizabeth finally said, turning around to face him, her eyes narrow and cold. "That's awfully romantic of you, Jack." She schlepped out of bed, tossing the sheets over Jack's face. She listened to him sputter as she searched for her blouse and breeches.

"M'serious!" he objected, sitting up in bed.

"I can tell that, you stupid man!" she cried. She pulled her pants up over her hips and tied them tightly before setting to work on the buttons on her shirt. "You have absolutely no sentiment whatsoever!"

"Oh, I see, then," he said, rolling his eyes. He got up out of bed, taking the sheet with him and wrapping it around his waist. "Was I _not just _pinin' away at the thought of you carrying around our child then?" He stomped over to where she stood, interrupting her attempt to locate her boots.

"You're even stupider than I thought!" she said, rather loudly, causing Jack to look over his shoulder as if he expected the entire crew to be standing in the doorway, watching them. "When you ask a girl to marry you, you're supposed to get down on bended knee and tell her how much you adore her and how much you wish to do so for the rest of your bloody life, not very unromantically suggest you get _'hitched' _because she's already slept with you more than once!" She slugged him in the arm as she said the last part.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his tender bicep before grabbing a hold of her forearms. "Lizzie, what's gotten into you??" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed half with anger and half with befuddlement.

Elizabeth stared at the pathetic, wounded look on his face before letting out an angry huff of air. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "It's just… look, it's not your fault. I have already been engaged once and it was so horribly unromantic that I prayed constantly I would have another chance to do it right. You've already done a tremendous job at sweeping me off my feet, Jack Sparrow, but I just thought… I just thought that if you ever asked me to marry you it would be… more… more than something you felt obligated to do because we've been… intimate."

"I thought it was," he said after a few moments, his eyes fallen to the floor. "And so ye know, Lizzie-beth, I didn't ask you to marry me because we've been _intimate._ I asked you because… because… well, because frankly, I never wish for you to be away from me ever again. An' I'm sorry darlin' that I'm not good with the romance and the sonnets and all that… but there it is."

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as his own dark eyes flashed up to her face again, a nervous, boyish grin fleeting on his mouth. She looked down at his hands and blinked. She lightly massaged her thumb over his knuckles before bringing one of his hands up to her mouth.

"I think you're better at it than you realize," she said quietly, kissing his hand and then holding it against her cheek.

Jack's head snapped up and he looked at her.

"Was that a yes?" he asked, his eyebrows nearly darting up to the ceiling.

Elizabeth laughed and smiled, then laughed again. She nodded. "Yes."

Jack smiled and released his grip on the sheet, letting it fall to the floor and pool around his ankles. Elizabeth shrieked with laughter as he hoisted her off the ground, whirling her around a little before carrying her back to the bed.

"I bloody well knew I had to be more romantic than Norrington," he proclaimed, burying his face against her neck and leaving a trail of kisses from her collar to her jaw.

"You are, Jack," she reassured him, allowing her eyes to flutter shut in bliss. "You most certainly are."

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there you go! Hope you liked it!

I also wanted to let you all know that I posted a new Sparrabeth oneshot called "What Hurts the Most." Check it out if you haven't already!

See you next time!


	37. Isla de Muerta

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**37—Isla de Muerta**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**DEDICATION: **For my dad, Greg, who has always been so supportive and encouraging. Happy Father's Day!

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! They are very much appreciated.

I borrowed an idea from _Friends _(the greatest show ever) for this chapter, from when Ross and Emily got engaged. Not important to the story or anything… just wanted to make a note of it for anyone who might've noticed.

Thanks again for the continued support! Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the bunk's edge, buttoning up her blouse and watching Jack across the cabin as he gathered up his clothing and effects, putting them back on one by one. He was absolutely mesmerizing, even when doing something as simple as getting dressed. He was _hers_… and she adored him.

She giggled when he nearly toppled over whilst attempting to put on his remaining boot. He whirled around to face her, the trinkets in his hair clinking together, and narrowed his eyes before his face softened and he smiled at her. In a few long strides, he stood before her before sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You been watchin' me?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

"Yes," she admitted. "Something I'm allowed to do, is it not?"

"Aye," Jack nodded. "The future _Missus _Capt'n Jack Sparrow is allowed to do whatever she pleases. Except undermine _Mister _Capt'n Jack Sparrow, that is."

"Oh?" This time it was _she _who cocked an eyebrow. She was about to go into a hefty speech about how ridiculous the "obey" part of marriage vows was, but decided to let Jack continue thinking he was in control. For now, anyways. "Mrs. Captain Jack Sparrow… that's quite a title."

"It certainly is," he agreed. "An' every pirate worth his or her salt has to have a good title."

"Well, I'm very glad to be inheriting one, then," she told him, kissing his forehead lightly.

Without saying anything, he looked down to his hands and pulled off each ring from his fingers. He took her hand and carefully threaded each one onto her ring finger, cursing when not a single one fit. "Bullocks," he muttered, leaning back and placing his hands on his thighs. "I thought that would be romantic as bloody hell."

"It was," Elizabeth laughed. She scooted off the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Besides… perhaps it's better that way anyways."

"How do ye figure that, Lizzie?"

"Well, now you get to keep all your marvelous rings for yourself," she said, twirling a finger around one of his dreadlocks, letting it get tighter and tighter until he made a face and she smirked. "And… well… I was thinking that… perhaps it would be best if we kept our engagement a secret. For the time being, until all this business with Jones is settled."

"Aye," he sighed, understanding completely where she was coming from. "Don't want to be givin' anyone anythin' to bargain with, now do we?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head.

"But…" Elizabeth watched him as he looked down at the several rings in his hand. He opened his fist up, displaying them for her. "Which one do ye fancy most, luv?"

She smiled as she admired each one. Each was so distinct yet so uniquely Jack… she knew where he was going with this, or at least partially knew, and didn't feel entirely settled about taking one of his rings… but still. If it pleased him, she would go along with it. Besides, receiving something like this from him meant a great deal and she would not take it lightly.

"This one," she finally said, as if having made an informed decision. Her ring of choice was the one with a skull on each side, a large, round emerald in the middle. She had always loved that one the most, though she couldn't explain why.

"Ah," Jack mused, holding it up and admiring it. "A fine choice. Turn around, then." He instructed. She smirked at him quizzically, but did as she was told. She then felt his fingers weaving their way through her hair and she closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing sensation.

"Where did you acquire it?" she asked as he worked, making a sturdy enough braid in the under-part of her hair, where it would be hidden, but where she would always be able to feel it.

"This magnificent gem happens to be the very first piece of jewelry I ever pilfered," he told her.

"Really?"

"No," Jack chuckled. "It's me father's. He gave it to me when my mother died… to pay for her funeral and whatnot," he explained.

"Oh…" She suddenly felt very guilty at having chosen it and was about to offer it back when he continued.

"But I managed to swipe it back afterwards. When me dad found out he just laughed at me an' told me to keep it." He was quiet for a few moments as he finished his work. "There," he said upon completion, turning her slightly so he could look at her. He smiled. "This ring has never known a finer owner."

"You're a shameless flatterer, Jack Sparrow," she chided.

"An' I promise to remain one until my dyin' day," he vowed, grinning as he crossed an imaginary _X_ over his heart.

"Do we have a heading?" Elizabeth asked, changing the subject.

"I gave one to Gibbs several hours ago after ye fell asleep," Jack told her. "We should be approachin' within another three hours or so. It's less than half a day's travel from where we were."

"Oh?" she inquired. "And where are we headed, then?"

Jack grinned.

* * *

The rocky cliffs that compromised much of the Isla de Muerta jutted out from the ocean like the lush mountains of the Isla de Pelegostos. These cliffs, however, instead of being softened by layers of beautiful, green life were barren, cold, and foreboding.

Jack stood at the railing with an easy smirk plastered on his face, Elizabeth at his side. The wind was cold and unwelcoming and she tightened her coat around her slight frame to keep from shivering. Rosalind stood just behind her, close enough that Elizabeth could feel her warm breath on the back of her neck. Her friend had stopped pacing, but she was still unnerved by it all, and Elizabeth couldn't blame her. It was easy for one's senses to overload in such an unfamiliar situation.

"We're going in _there_?" Rosalind finally asked, breaking the silence as the crew fidgeted around on deck behind them, preparing longboats or whatever else Gibbs had charged them with.

"Aye," Jack nodded. "Not for long, though. Just a quick jaunt."

"You still haven't explained why we're here," Elizabeth reminded him, placing a single pinky over his ringless finger as a silent reminder of their engagement. When she looked at him, he was grinning.

"Yes, well," he continued, clearing his throat. "Ye see, Lizzie, a senseless rumor was started not long ago about the… shall I say… _entrapment _of Isla de Muerta to ward of the prying fingers of the East India Company and our greedy little friend, and I heartily stress the word 'little,' Cutler Beckett."

Elizabeth laughed. "Am I to assume that the proprietor of this _senseless _rumor is amongst the three of us?"

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be an _entirely_ unfair assumption."

"Yes, well, amusing as you are, dearest Captain," Elizabeth sighed. "You haven't answered my question."

"Well, I have an old… friend… who might just be able to help us with Davy Jones… but she demands payment."

"She?" Elizabeth couldn't help but inquire.

"Now, now, don't get yer knickers in a twist," Jack said, swaying his hand through the air as if swatting at an invisible mosquito. "It hasn't been like _that_ fer years. But yes, she demands payment."

"What kind of payment do you expect to get here?" Rosalind asked, her already large brown eyes even larger as she stared at the waves crashing against the rocks.

"Isla de Muerta is a treasure cash," Elizabeth explained. "While not everyone knows how to find it—"

"It can only be found by those who already know where it is," Jack chimed, a smirk on his face.

Elizabeth glared at him before continuing. "Those who do store most everything they find here."

"Oh," Rosalind said, nodding. "I thought that a pirate would want to spend whatever loot he had on wine, women and song."

"Most do…" Jack told her. "But the smart ones…" He placed one hand on his chest and snaked the other around Elizabeth's waist, pulling her close until their hips touched. "The smart ones stash it away for an easy retirement."

"So it won't be a long trip, then?" Elizabeth asked. "We'll go ashore, fetch a few things of a valuable nature, and leave? Because Will is still counting on us to save him."

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. "If I had any doubts about the boy's safety, we wouldn't be here right now," he said, releasing his grip on Elizabeth's waist. "An' actually… it might not be so easy."

"Why's that?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, because, she fancies things of a more _unique_ nature, in a matter o' speakin'."

"So we're looking for something specific?"

"Aye… somethin' quite specific."

* * *

The row in made Elizabeth nervous and fidgety. After all, the last time she had been to Isla de Muerta, she was a captive, and she had been almost certain of her impending death. She sat silently as Jack rowed and Rosalind fired off another round of questions about… well, everything. Who specifically was going to help them combat Jones… what specifically they were looking for… how much longer it would be until they reached the main cave… Elizabeth knew it was because she was nervous, but that didn't make the ride any less tedious.

Jack had explained—with a patience that Elizabeth found both endearing _and _astounding—that once they found what they were looking for, they would make full haste to a bayou about a day and a half's journey away from Isla de Muerta. He told of a priestess he had known who went by the name _Tia Dalma_, one who had solved more than one problem for him in the past. Elizabeth would have inquired about those problems had Rosalind not beaten her to it.

He had also explained that he expected Barbossa's pet monkey to still be alive inside the cave and that said monkey (of an undead nature) would be just the thing Tia Dalma would accept as payment. Elizabeth was just starting to feel panicky and overwhelmed when the longboat came to a stop. They had arrived.

Just as she remembered it, the cave glistened with gold and silver, glittering with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, pearls and diamonds alike.

"My God," Rosalind uttered in disbelief as she stepped out of the longboat. "I bet the King himself doesn't have a hoard this magnificent…"

"Of course not," Jack confirmed, helping Elizabeth up and gripping her hand tightly as she set foot on the rock, as if sensing her discomfort. "We got to it first," he added with a smirk. "Alright!" he turned and began shouting orders to his crew. "No one touches anythin' until that bloody monkey is found! Anyone who's caught doing so will be left behind!"

Elizabeth inwardly rolled her eyes. She knew Jack would never be so callous as to leave one of his men behind, but that didn't mean he was beyond threatening it.

"And whichever man—" he turned and flashed a grin at Elizabeth and Rosalind "—or woman—finds the beast first gets his or her first pick o' treasure. Off with ye now! Move!"

The crew did as they were told, scattering about in different directions. Right away Elizabeth noticed several of them plucking coins off the floor and sliding them into their pockets, but she kept it to herself. Something else had captured her attention, leaving her with a pit in the bottom of her stomach.

"Jack…" She tugged lightly on his coat before he could go off in search of his flea-ridden namesake. "Where is he?"

"Where's who?" Jack inquired, spinning around to the direction in which Elizabeth's eyes were fixed.

"Elizabeth, darling, perhaps you should sit down…" Rosalind coaxed gently. "You're as white as death…"

"Where's Barossa?" she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "Shouldn't he… I mean… shouldn't his body be…" She couldn't get the words out and so instead, she looked at Jack, whose smirk had faded into a frown and whose eyebrows were knotted together. "Surely he couldn't have decomposed—"

"No," Jack said quietly, shaking his head.

Barbossa was gone. There was no corpse. No bones. Not even the stench of rotting flesh was left behind nor any trace of blood from where Jack had shot him. There wasn't even an indentation in the mound of treasure upon which he had fallen… upon which they had left him.

"What's going on?" Rosalind asked, her eyes darting between Jack and Elizabeth, both who looked like they'd seen a ghost.

"Jack…" Elizabeth tugged on his sleeve again. "Where is he?? He couldn't have gotten up and walked away by himself!"

"It's alright, Lizzie," Jack said, a small smile crossing his face. But Elizabeth could tell by its unease that it was forced. He stepped behind her and placed both hands on her upper arms, rubbing them soothingly. "S'nothing to fret about now. Barbossa _**is**_ dead and we've more important things to worry about. Like—"

Jack was interrupted when Marty's voice came echoing through the cave. "Capt'n! Capt'n!!" Down a hill of jewels and gold Marty bounded, his finger pointing to his left. Jack's brow again furrowed and he looked in the direction to which the little man was pointing.

Like a flash of lightning, Jack the monkey came hissing and screeching around pillars of gold, knocking chests and statues over as six or so men chased after him, screaming, hooting and hollering like there was no tomorrow.

Elizabeth looked at Jack, who was grinning.

"—like how many pirates it takes to catch a monkey."

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, that's a good, light-hearted place to stop.

I hope I didn't make the beginning to mushy, but I like to explore what Jack might be like behind closed doors, when he's with someone he really trusts and can let his guard down.

Anyways, thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	38. Tia Dalma

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**38—Tia Dalma**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They are greatly appreciated and provide tremendous motivation. To those of you from the States, I hope you all had a very happy 4th! Where I was, it was hotter than bloody hell, so I hope you kept cool… at least the unfair weather prompted a little inspiration for the beginning of this chapter.

This chapter was a b*tch to write. Don't have a particular reason as to why it was, but it was. I hope I did Tia Dalma justice and I hope it was worth the wait. Sorry to reiterate dialogue from the movie, but it was necessary to move the story forward. Thank you all so much for your patience.

Anyways. Thanks again for the reviews! Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

The sky was inky black and a very slight breeze did little to relieve the day's warmth.

Elizabeth sat in the crow's nest, her eyes closed, her head tilted heavenwards. Her mind was clouded and she had a headache. She couldn't stop thinking about Barbossa, or rather, the _lack _of Barbossa. She had racked her mind over and over again and still had yet to come up with a reasonable explanation as to how he disappeared.

She had come to the conclusion that she would never really know, though it was hardly a satisfying one. She believed in logic and reason, despite all she'd seen and done while on the Black Pearl, and the lack of a sensible explanation was an unusual form of torture.

They had left Isla de Muerta almost a day ago, said day being unrelentingly hot. Though the sun had disappeared several hours ago, it was still warm and she still felt sticky and uncomfortable.

Little did she know, Jack was just a few feet away, expertly clawing his way up to the crow's nest with one hand, for a bottle of rum was deftly gripped in the other. When he reached the top, he was for what felt like the millionth time since knowing her, stunned by her beauty. Sitting there, her eyes closed and completely unguarded, she was the most lovely being he had ever beheld. He grinned at her as he reached through the wooden rail of the nest and took hold of her foot. She jumped, then instantly relaxed upon opening her eyes to see a gold-flecked smile greeting her.

"I was wondering when you would join me," she said, her voice calm and throaty.

"Well," he said, grunting with the slight effort it took to hoist himself up and over the edge of the nest. "It's too quiet up here… past time to destroy your peace."

Elizabeth laughed at him as she scooted forward, allowing him to take a seat behind her, wrapping one arm lazily around her torso.

"Still troubled, luv?" he asked, using his available hand (and then teeth) to uncork the bottle.

"There's no sense to it," she sighed. "None at all… it's not as though he could have gotten up and walked away."

"No," Jack agreed. "But does it really matter, Lizzie?"

"It matters to me!" she wailed.

She felt him exhale, his breath warm against her neck. "Take a deep breath, darlin'," he encouraged. "A tide likely came in and washed it away," he assured her, his voice steady. "But either way, we know he's dead… I shot 'im, square in the chest. It doesn't matter where 'is body is because we know he's not comin' back. Savvy?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, as instructed. After several quiet moments of thought, she sighed. "You're right." She leaned back against him, letting her forehead rest against the curve of his neck. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he shrugged. "Were you thinkin' he was alive somewhere?"

"No," she shook her head before sighing again. "I don't know. Maybe. He's a dangerous man, Jack… _was _a dangerous man. And you're in danger enough as it is."

Jack chuckled. "I like danger," he admitted. "Gives a pirate drive…" He glanced down to see her eyes open wide, staring up at him. His chest suddenly felt heavy and he did not want to have this conversation… but he knew it was inevitable. "Ye remember what I told ye, luv? Before we left Port Royale?" Elizabeth didn't answer. "I promised I'd take ye back… whenever ye wanted, for whatever reason. Just say the word and I'll have the crew change our heading."

Her eyes widened, though not from the fear Jack thought it was, but from a rising sense of panic. "Do you want me to go back?" She leaned forward and turned so she could face him.

"It's not about what I want," he told her, a very slight grin on the corners of his mouth. But she could tell by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that this was rooted in sadness, a sacrifice he didn't want to make but was more than willing to if it was what she wanted.

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed, turning even more so that she was now directly in front of him, her legs bent forward against her chest. She shook her head. "But that's not the point, anyways. "Have you forgotten that I agreed to marry you?"

"No, but—"

"Is that not the strongest indication that I _want _to be here?"

"Well, I—"

"I _don't_ want to go back to Port Royale," she told him, reaching forward and taking a hold of his thumb, gently making a cocoon for it with her fist. "Not today or tomorrow or ever."

"Ye just seemed… weary. Homesick, maybe."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "The Black Pearl is my home and I'll not be leaving it." Jack looked down and began to fiddle with one of his rings before looking back at her, the grin broadening, however slightly. "Like it or not, Jack Sparrow, you're stuck with me. So deal with it."

"_I'm _stuck with _you_?" he asked, chuckling. "I would have thought it to be the other way around."

"Well," Elizabeth said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She leaned back against him, plucking the rum bottle from his fist and taking a swig. "Maybe sometimes."

* * *

The Pantano River was not a happy place. It didn't take long for Elizabeth to figure that out.

It took about an hour's worth of rowing for the hot Caribbean sunlight to disappear completely behind the banyan and cypress trees, but despite the lack of light it was still uncomfortably warm. Elizabeth felt sticky and every once in a while a drop of sweat would trickle down her back, tickling her, which only served to deepen her uneasiness.

Fireflies flickered eerily around the edges of the swamp they found themselves immersed in. They almost appeared to be eyes, just watching them, as if they were intruding. Every now and then they would come across a person, a poor, wretched looking soul, staring at them from a distance. It was baffling how anyone could find a sustainable life out here in the black muck of the swamp, but even more baffling was how they watched them, seemingly knowing that they were coming.

In their party was Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, Rosalind, herself, and of course, Jack, who sat at the foot of the longboat. The rest were instructed to stay behind with the ship. Whether or not they would listen had yet to be seen. Elizabeth felt wary at leaving the ship unattended, without her or Jack left behind to supervise, but she felt even more troubled at letting him go into the darkness by himself.

She found herself reaching for his hand and when she found it, she grasped on. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed lightly, and though she didn't look at him, she could feel him smiling at her. Rosalind, in turn, nervously clung to the excess fabric of Elizabeth's jacket, frightened.

At long last the river seemed to come to an end, stopping at the base of a lonely, decrepit little shack. Light glowed from within and Elizabeth could only imagine that this was the home of the priestess that Jack had told her about.

Upon coming to an unreliable looking dock, Jack gave swift orders for Cotton and Marty to stay behind with the longboat. Elizabeth didn't question his judgment… she knew he was only bringing the most trusted of the group inside with him. Jack helped Elizabeth up the front steps and left Gibbs to handle Rosalind. Before reaching the front door, he vaguely whispered something about staying close behind, but Elizabeth had difficulty understanding him.

She watched him, this supposedly fearless man, hesitantly peer inside before swinging the door fully open and motioning for the rest to follow him.

Elizabeth was instantly hit with a concoction of smells stemming from exotic spices, cloves and patchouli, and even a faint hint of tobacco. The place was unlike any she'd ever seen. A curious assortment of… things… hung in bottles from the ceiling. Cobwebs acted as adornments to the collection of oddities. The place couldn't have been any bigger than the servants quarters at the governor's mansion in Port Royale, yet it appeared to be vacant. She looked up at Jack for the briefest of moments before she heard a voice… out of nowhere, Tia Dalma had appeared.

"Ahhhh…" Her voice had a warm and wise quality to it, almost sounding ancient, like it had spoken to every person on the planet. "Jack Sparro'… I knew de wind was gon' blow ye back to me one day."

Elizabeth stared at the woman. There was something instantly familiar about her, but she had no idea what. Her skin appeared to be warm and rich, like the leather on her father's desk chair. Her hair was like a nest and she half expected a bird to fly out or a rodent to emerge from it at any moment. Her features were beautiful, but her face was haphazardly decorated with some kind of paint. And her teeth… her teeth were black.

"Tia Dalma!" Jack explained, releasing Elizabeth's hand. Like flipping on a switch, he'd gone into full Capt'n Jack mode, complete with charm and swagger. She watched with mild jealousy as he reached forward and plucked up Tia Dalma's hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it delicately before releasing it and holding it between his own two hands. "Lovely to see ye darlin', as always."

"Now Jack…" A coy smile fluttered across Tia's lips and she clicked her tongue at him before shaking her finger in his face. "Ye know betta than to flatter an' flirt in the presence of yer woman."

Elizabeth watched, her mouth dropping slightly in surprise when Tia's eyes shot directly to her. As she walked across the room towards her, her own eyes darted around nervously, as if wondering where she could run and hide. She watched in astonishment as Tia seemed to glide across the room, like she was floating. She gulped when the priestess took her hands in her own.

"Elizabet Swann. I know you."

Elizabeth laughed nervously. "Bed pardon?"

"You are de one who has tamed de Sparro'," Tia said, speaking slowly and carefully. She then released Elizabeth's hands and raised them both to her cheeks, placing them delicately against her skin. Upon contact, Elizabeth involuntarily shuddered, for Tia's hands were unfathomably cold, like the depths of the ocean might have been. "You are destined for many great tings, child."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and when they found Jack, he shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was entirely used to Tia Dalma's riddles. "Thank you," she uttered, not knowing what else to say. Tia Dalma smiled at her, lowered her hands and turned around.

"Well den, Jack Sparro'. Ye come to ask of Davy Jones, do ye?"

"I do," Jack replied quickly, not seeming to be surprised at all by her psychic abilities. "Ye know by now dat I demand payment."

Jack smirked. "Is my welcomed and sorely missed presence not payment enough?" he asked, swaggered toward her.

"Maybe once," Tia replied, smirking back. "But you are a sold man now."

Elizabeth felt mildly offended. Was Tia suggesting that her love for Jack imprisoned him?

Jack's smirk faded and he made a face, whistling sharply and motioning for Gibbs, who carried the cage containing Jack's namesake. Gibbs let out a discontented groan and handed over the cage, watching with irritation as Jack placed the cage on the table in front of their hostess. Elizabeth watched as he proceeded to pull out his gun and fired a single shot in the primate's direction, causing her to jump and Rosalind to squeak. The monkey screeched with fury but was not wounded.

"An undead monkey!" Jack proclaimed proudly. "Pretty fair prize, I'd say."

Tia sighed, looking bored by it. She shrugged before unlatching the cage's door, allowing the monkey to run free into the darkness of the shack. "Fair enough, but next time I expect better," she told him.

Jack's smirk returned to his lips. "We need to find the key," he told her, his voice low and husky, just above a whisper.

Tia sighed and leaned back into the chair that sat behind a sprawling table of odd and dusty trinkets. "I assumed as much." A feral grin then crossed her face as she looked from Jack to Elizabeth and then back to Jack again. "Yer compass no longer works, does it Jack Sparro'?"

"Of course it does," Jack said, frowning.

Tia Dalma frowned back and leaned forward. "Do not lie to me, Jack Sparro', you have already found what ye want most and so it does not work." Jack looked around sheepishly before she continued. "De key is merely a tool for what you seek. Yer key go to a chest. What be inside de chest is de true object of yer desire."

"What's inside the chest?" Elizabeth asked, crossing her arms.

"Gold?" Gibbs asked, stepping forward.

"Jewels?" Rosalind added.

Tia Dalma smiled almost wickedly, pausing for several long moments. "Ye know of Davy Jones, yes? A man of de sea, he is. A great sailor. Until…" she paused again for dramatic effect, looking around to make sure that all eyes were on here before continuing on. "…until he come upon dat which vexes all men."

"What vexes all men?" Rosalind asked, her voice still quiet and timid.

Elizabeth smirked when Tia Dalma looked at her and grinned. "A woman."

"Dat's right, child. A woman. He fell in love."

"No, no, no, no…" Gibbs protested. "I thought it was the _sea_ he fell in love with."

"Same story, different versions," Jack said, shrugging, as if completely uninterested in the entire meeting. Elizabeth could slap him. The purpose of being in that dusty, worthless, dried up shack to begin with was to save his rear end and he acted as though it didn't even matter.

"And all are true," Tia Dalma went on, confirming Jack's declaration. "It was a woman… as changing an' wild an' untamable as de sea. An' he never stopped lovin' her. But de pain it caused him was too much to live wit… but not enough to cause him to die." She paused for a third time, her voice lowering even still.

"What exactly…" Elizabeth prodded, scowling up at Jack to notice him swipe a small leather pouch and stuff it into his pocket. "...is inside the chest?"

"Him heart," Tia told her, smiling still. "He carved out him heart… locked it away in chest and hid it from de world." She leaned back into her chair. "The key you find on him. He keep wit him at all times."

Elizabeth's eyes shot to Jack, who was grinning rather triumphantly. She marched over to him with half the mind to slap him right them and there. "Did you know this already?" she asked, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

"Not… all of it," he admitted sheepishly. "I didn't know _where_ the key was."

"And this information was not important enough to divulge beforehand?" Rosalind asked, chiming in.

Jack ignored her. "Well now we _do _know where it is. So all we have to do is slip aboard the Flying Dutchman, snag the key for our own purposes and sail back to Port Royale to save Will!"

Elizabeth exhaled angrily. She knew there was still more that Jack wasn't sharing with her and if he wouldn't let it out there… she'd have to work herself on him later. She turned back to Tia Dalma, who was now standing only a foot away, holding her dirty hand out expectantly and staring at Jack.

"Let me see your hand," she commanded.

Jack's eyes darted nervously between all in the room before doing as he was told. She said nothing and continued to wait for him to comply. Patience wearing thin and having a very good idea what Tia was after, Elizabeth snatched his other arm and quickly unbound the bandage that covered the large, blackened blemish in the palm of his hand. He was about to balk at her but before he could, Tia nodded knowingly and moved to rummage around on one of the shelves behind her.

Gibbs gasped in horror. "The black spot!" he exclaimed. Elizabeth watched as he spit on the ground and proceeded to spin in circles, three times, before rubbing his hands down his vest.

"What's the black spot?" Rosalind asked, her eyes going to Elizabeth, clearly knowing that she wouldn't get a straight answer out of Jack or an unexaggerated one out of Gibbs. Before Elizabeth could muster up a reasonable explanation, however, Tia Dalma reappeared, holding what appeared to be a very large jar of… dirt.

"Davy Jones cannot make port," she said quickly. "Cannot set foot on land but once every ten years."

Elizabeth glanced at Jack, wondering if he had known _that_ too.

"Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparro'," Tia continued, stepping towards them and extending the jar towards him. "An' so you shall carry land with you."

"It's a… jar of dirt," Jack observed, taking it from her and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yes," Tia nodded, satisfied with her gift.

"Is the… jar of dirt… going to help?" he asked, his voice riddled with doubt.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Jack, if you don't want to bloody thing, just give it back."

Jack scowled at her, pouting. "No…"

Elizabeth shot him what must have been the hundredth angry glance in the last five minutes before pushing past him and walking to Tia Dalma. "It seems we are in search of the Flying Dutchmen, then. Can you help us?"

Tia smiled and nodded, once again taking a seat. Elizabeth watched her as she gathered up an assortment of seashells, rocks and dried crab shells. She shook them in her hands briefly before tossing them onto the table surface in front of her.

"A touch… of destiny."

The assortment of treasures landed in a perfect arrangement on the table. Jack leaned forward and stared at them for several long, silent moments before nodding slightly, as if recognizing some significance in their pattern.

"Thank you, Tia, luv. Yer a diamond." Tia said nothing, but only nodded.

Rosalind was the first out the door, followed by Gibbs.

Elizabeth lingered for a moment, the silence so heavy and thick in the air, it could have been cut with a knife and served on a silver platter.

Jack identified that familiar look in her eyes… a look of sadness and betrayal… before she turned her back to leave, following the others into the surrounding darkness. He sighed and turned to follow when he felt a hand on his arm. Tia was staring at him, an ominous look in her eyes. He hadn't even heard her get up.

"Jack Sparro'."

"…Tia?"

"_Death… is a choice."_

* * *

**A/N:** Morbid, eh? What could that possibly mean????Well, that's for me to know and you to ponder. ;)

Thanks for reading, hope you all liked it! Now go review!

See you next time!!


	39. Understanding

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**39—Understanding**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, as always! You're all magnificent!

I truly apologize for the delay in updating, but the end of summer has been quite, quite busy. So one job, four new classes and a litter of puppies later, I've managed to squeak this chapter out. I hope it's up to par!

Thanks again for your patience. Enjoy!

* * *

Half a day passed, the majority of which Jack spent avoiding Elizabeth and she spent avoiding him, though for very different reasons.

Her avoidance came from what started out as frustration and anger with Jack's seemingly complete incapability of being honest with her, but as the hours slowly ticked by, it transformed into a dull hurt tinged with confusion. Was his dishonesty, or rather, withholding information, rooted in distrust for her? Did he not see by now that it was safe to share things with her? Or was it a feeble attempt to protect her, which seemed noble enough, but didn't make her feel any better.

Jack's turn at avoiding her came from simple observation. It didn't take a genius to determine that Elizabeth was _not_ happy with him… and to be perfectly frank, he didn't want to have the conversation that he knew was inevitable at one point or another… so until then, he would just put it off by keeping out of her way. His reasons for not divulging everything he knew about Davy Jones he knew to be insufficient, no matter how adequate they seemed at the time, and he didn't want to see the look on her face when he explained himself.

So he purely evaded her. Wherever Elizabeth was, he found something to do on the opposite end of the ship. Even when he heard from Gibbs that she was looking for him somewhere around two o'clock in the afternoon, he found himself hiding in the cargo hold like a bloody coward until he was certain that she'd given up and moved on to something else.

Now, with the sun long vacant from the sky and an almost-full moon up above (not to mention, nearly two and a half bottles of rum consumed), he was leaning against the wall outside their cabin.

His debate with himself should have been simple enough, and likely would have been if he was Will or Norrington or anyone else… he sighed. Then again, Will or Norrington likely would have been honest with the lass to begin with. So there he stood, debating on whether or not to go in and face her or take an extra shift at the helm.

He had just decided on that extra shift and had turned away from the door when a slight, petite frame blocked him. Rosalind's dark hair fluttered with the breeze and he could barely make out her face against the darkness of the night. Her arms were crossed and a nervous grin crept onto his lips.

"You're going to lose her, you know," she said quietly.

_Oh_, _bloody hell,_ he thought, releasing an irritated groan and rolling his eyes. "I see," he replied, smirking. "You're one of those keenly observant females who knows all, eh?" He really didn't feel like discussing his relationship with Elizabeth with this fair skinned, balsy female. Not now, not ever.

"Psychic, no," she assured him, smiling faintly, confidently. "But observant, yes. Whether you like it or not."

Jack rolled his eyes again and brushed past her, but her hand shot out and took hold of his arm gently before he could get anywhere.

"I know I annoy you," she said quickly, "and normally I would keep my place and stay out of it. But I care about Elizabeth and I know how much she loves you. And whether you're ready to admit it or not, I know you love her."

He breathed in sharply through his nose. If he wasn't uncomfortable and fidgety before, he certainly was now. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again before she took in a deep breath and continued.

"I come to you to spare you both heartache."

"You're awfully convinced of it," Jack said, sighing.

"She assured me of it."

_That_ piqued Jack's interest. He tilted his head back, arching an eyebrow. "How so?"

"She told me…" Rosalind hesitated. Jack's lips were pursed and he tapped his foot quickly on the deck of the ship, seeming impatient. But his eyes… his eyes had grown large and uncertain, almost doe-like. She hadn't known him long enough to determine his true emotions, and he seemed like the kind of man whose feelings were always partially obscured by pride or maybe even a need for self-protection. She did know, however, that if he was truly aware of how much his eyes were giving away, they would have been narrowed into slits or rolling at her already.

"She told you…?" Jack prodded, his hands waving in little circles as if to lead her on.

"She told me she's leaving," Rosalind sighed, wanting to grimace at the instant hurt on this supposedly self-confident, arrogant man. She knew his weakness, then, right away… Elizabeth clearly made him a different person.

Jack said nothing, didn't even utter a thank-you. He quickly turned on heel, slamming the cabin door behind him.

* * *

Elizabeth stood in front of the full-length mirror on the far-side of Jack's cabin. She'd been standing there for what felt like hours, just staring at herself until she didn't recognize her own face anymore.

She felt dull inside, completely numb, and likely could have stood there for several hours more when the door slamming broke her from her trance. She whirled around, hearing the stomp of his boots across the room until he stood about five feet away from her. She watched his face, tight with angry frustration, and traced his eyes as they move from her to the bed, where her few possessions sat out neatly, waiting to be packed.

"What's this, then?" he asked, finally breaking the silence, his hand gesturing towards the bed. "Yer leavin', then? That's bloody it?"

Elizabeth sighed a ragged sigh, using every last bit of strength to not cry in front of him. Her crying in front of him, she knew, would leave to a severe enough lapse in judgment that she might question her decision to go.

"Not now," she said quietly. "I'll stay until I know you're safe… until you've met with Jones and negotiated your freedom. Then you can leave me at the first port we come to."

"Like hell," he spat, quickly placing his hands on his hips.

"Excuse me?" Her eyes narrowed into slits and she crossed her arms. "You are not my keeper, nor have you ever been!"

"Perhaps not, dearie, but that doesn't mean I'm lettin' you leave." He took a few steps towards her, narrowing the gap between them by about half.

"I'm afraid, _Captain Sparrow_, that the decision is not yours to make," she curtly informed him. Completely unafraid and assured of herself, she crossed the remaining two and a half feet, their faces mere inches apart.

"Watch it, luv," he warned, lowering his voice, though managing to maintain a sense of sternness she wasn't used to, at least from him. "Need I remind you yer on _my _ship. Nat'rally that makes it _my _decision."

"You… you…!" She couldn't remember a time when he had been quite so infuriating. "You damn smug, cocky—"

What few inches were left between them were quickly closed when Jack's hands jutted out. One found a firm grip on her waist and the other wound into her hair, his long fingers intertwining with her long, golden locks. His lips crashed against hers, teeth scraping against teeth in an angry, passionate kiss. Her arms came up around his back, her hands grabbing onto the fabric of his jacket and gripping so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

Suddenly she realized what he was doing and she angrily pulled away from him. Before she could stop herself, a hand came up and cracked against his cheek, the slap sharply piercing the air. She watched, eyes wide, as his head shot to the side. As his fingers came up to cradle his cheek, her own came up against her tender, kiss-bruised lips.

"I likely deserved that—" he admitted, attempting to move towards her when she slapped him again, this time twice as hard as before. "Ow! Jesus bloody Christ, Lizzie!"

"Don't. Call. Me. Lizzie." She told said sharply, crossing her arms and taking a step back. "You don't get to just kiss me and expect all to be forgiven! And don't expect that your endearing little nicknames or niceties will make it better either!"

"Fine. _Elizabeth_." He said lowly, his eyes dark. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, well," she tucked a few stray hands of hair behind her ears and let out and angry puff of air, "you always are." She turned around and crossed her arms, walking a safe-enough distance away from him. She listened as he sighed and groaned. She angrily whirled around. "This is your life we're talking about, Jack! How do you expect me to help you if you can't be completely honest with me? How do you expect to beat Jones if you're not willing to let me in on all the information?"

"I told you before, Elizabeth, this isn't your battle." His eyes were cold and glaring. One hand rested on the butt of his pistol, the other balled in a fist at his side. "Besides. Ye know now, so what difference does it make?"

"It makes a _difference _to _me,_" she told him, throwing her hands up in the air. "You think you're protecting me from all of this, but you're not! The less I know, the less able I am to defend myself… and to help you defend yourself." The expression in his eyes didn't change. "I know what you are, Jack," she whispered, taking a few steps towards him. "I know you're a pirate and I know that requires a certain… _lack_ of honesty. And I need you to know that I'm not trying to change who you are. But pirate or not, you're a human being." She placed her hand on his chest. "This, right here… it _is _a relationship and it _is _real. And I know you have to know that, or else you would not have asked me to marry you. I'm not asking to know every detail of your past… but when it comes to _this_… when it comes to Davy Jones, every detail you leave out or lie to me about just conveys a lack of faith in me and my ability to help you through this. And if you have a lack of faith in me—" her voice cracked from the emotional strain and she had to take a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing. "If you have a lack of faith in me, then we have no business going on like this."

Her eyes were filled with tears now and she went to brush past him, but before she could even get a foot and a half away, his hand shot out, gently grabbing her arm.

"Lizzie—" He stopped himself, not entirely knowing what to say, which was highly unusual, for him… "You're wrong." A smirk curled onto his lips.

"Oh, Jack," a few tears escaped her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hands. "You so know what I wanted to hear."

"Maybe it's not what you want to hear," he said, shrugging, but keeping the grip on her arm firm. "But ye need it." He paused and stared at her, his dark eyes penetrating hers and not for the first time since knowing him, she found herself completely unable to look away, despite how much she wanted to. "Now maybe I'm not entirely honest all the time. But pirate or not, who bloody is? What you need to know is that regardless of me integrity, I trust you. I trust you with me life, which is more than I can say about anyone I've ever known, ever.

"Sometimes I say the wrong thing or simply _don't _say the right thing. I'm not tryin' to pretend to be good at this because I've never had it before. Frankly, I never thought I wanted it… regardless, whether I say it every day for the rest of our lives or never again, I _need_ you here, wif' me. Don't. Go."

He tightened his grip slightly and pulled her to him until she was against his chest. "I need you," he whispered.

She gulped and stared up at him with wide, teary eyes. It wasn't the sweeping declaration of love she had been hoping for, or the one that any other girl would _only _find appropriate. But she knew by the firm yet gentle grip he maintained on her and the utterly serious look in his eyes that it was the best he could do, and that was perfectly good enough for her. Jack's best really meant something to her. To other girls, it might not be good enough, but to her, it was the moon.

"Now," he said, his voice a throaty whisper, a subtle smile on his face, "can I kiss you again?"

She smiled and sniffled, answering by placing a hand on the back of his neck and slowly lowering his mouth to hers.

* * *

The entirety of the night was spent in their own little world, rocking against one another until neither had the energy to go on. Only with the first appearance of the morning sun did they allow themselves any rest. Lying together, replete and satiated, their sweat-slicked bodies hooked together like a human puzzle, their much-needed understanding had been reached.

"Bootstrap is alive," Jack finally said quietly, breaking the silence.

"Beg pardon?" Elizabeth asked, pulling herself up from her place in the crook of his arm.

"William's father. Bill Turner. He's alive."

"What?" She shook her head. "I don't understand…"

"Alive as the poor soul can be, I s'pose," Jack sighed, looking away from her momentarily. "Serves as Jones' henchman. He came to me the night I got this," he said, looking down at the black welt on his hand.

Elizabeth looked away, pondering the severity of what Jack was telling her. "Will deserves to know," she whispered.

"He certainly does… an' he will, eventually." He sighed again. "I just wanted to tell you. I should've sooner. M'sorry."

Elizabeth smiled at him before leaning down, kissing his chest softly. She nestled back into his arm, a familiar sense of security and belonging washing over her. "Thank you for telling me."

His arm wrapped around her back and waist. His _you're welcome_ came in the form of a kiss, placed gently atop her head. He laid like that, an arm around his girl, lightly stroking her lower back until her steady breathing assured him she had drifted off.

Within moments, sleep found him as well.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, now go review! I hope you all liked it!


	40. Love Stories

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**40—Love Stories**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **I'm so sorry I haven't updated—I can believe I let it go this far! But I'm getting ready to transfer soon and I've been so overwhelmed with school work that I barely have time to think, let alone write.

This chapter is a light-hearted and easy-flowing chapter just to let you guys know that I'm still around and still very much invested in the story… it's mostly filler and fluff following the heaviness of the last chapter and proceeding the introduction of Davy Jones in the next chapter, which I hope to have up by Halloween. There are some fine details to pay attention to for further story-lines, however! (Just something to ponder, I guess.) Hopefully this chapter isn't a disappointment to you all!

Anyways, thank you all so much for your patience! Right now its midterms (on top of all the work I have already), so bear with me while they're going on. Hopefully the updates will pick up soon.

Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

The sun had reached its peak in the sky above and Gibbs was growing impatient.

Jack had yet to show his face that morning (or afternoon, rather) and his quartermaster was quickly growing tired of being in charge. He was, after all, a _quartermaster_, not captain. He wasn't a power-hungry man—he enjoyed his job. After all, being captain often felt like babysitting a group of unruly, vicious toddlers… especially with Marty sick every minute and a half from a fresh hangover, Ragetti going on and on about the splinters in his eye and Pintel going on about how he shouldn't rub it. He didn't even want to think about the troubles with Cotton's parrot.

He finally found solace at the wheel, relieving Cotton of his duties and allowing him to tend to his filthy-feathered companion. He had had just a few moments of silence in which to organize his thoughts when he felt a presence behind him. He turned around slowly, half expecting to see the junior Cyclops or his stringy-haired friend in need of someone to hold their hand (yet again). He was then understandably relieved to see Rosalind, standing casually with her arms behind her back.

She was somewhat of a needy thing, but then again this was a whole new world to her. She was mostly quiet and polite—reserved, which was no doubt a reflection of her upbringing. Other than that, he knew very little of her… not even a last name to go by.

She looked somewhat uncomfortable in the men's clothes that had been provided for her, always shifting and tugging, but she would adjust in time. She was a sweet kid and Gibbs felt an odd sense of responsibility towards her.

"Beautiful day," she said quietly, bringing one foot up and scratching at the back of her calf with it.

"It is," Gibbs agreed, "too bad not all have shared in this glorious afternoon we're havin'."

Rosalind laughed. "You mean a certain captain of ours and his lady-love."

"Precisely."

She laughed again, stepping forward so that her shoulders were parallel to Gibbs'. "I take it, then, you have never seen him in such a state before?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, and don't suspect I ever will again. That golden-haired lass of his 'as done him in, I s'pose."

"They are a good influence on each other," she agreed. "I know I've never seen Elizabeth so happy and I've known her since the days of our childhood, when all we could do was listen to her mother's stories and build fantastic pirate forts out of the bed clothes and kitchen chairs."

"How every good pirate gets his or her start," Gibbs assured her.

"Still…" Rosalind paused for several moments. "I cannot help but worry that he might cause her heartbreak someday. His reputation with the fairer sex proceeds him."

"It always does," Gibbs chuckled, shaking his head. "Any swag of a pirate seems wholly incapable of lovin' but one woman. In any event, I don't foresee our Jack breakin' Miss Swann's heart."

"No?" She sighed. "I'll trust your judgment, then." She paused again. "Have you ever been in love, Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs was silent. He knew the answer, he just didn't know how to formulate it properly.

"Forgive me," his company said quickly, "I have overstepped by bounds."

This made Gibbs laugh. "Now lass, there be no bounds to speak of on a pirate ship." He noticed her visibly relax then, taking a deep breath, as if some invisible corset had been untied. "I was, once, long ago, when I was a lad not much older than yerself. But at the time, I was a lowly sailor and she was the lonely wife of a plantation owner in the countryside outside London."

"She was _married_?" Rosalind seemed horrified and for a passing moment, he regretted telling her anything.

"Aye, she was, but as stated I was a young lad with no real morals," he explained. He paused, wondering for a moment what his morals were now… were there any? He also took the moment to wonder why he felt he could speak so freely when he previously liked to keep things to himself. He supposed it was because she was a harmless little thing who could do no real wrong, to him at least, and so he shrugged and thought nothing of it.

"If you were a sailor and she lived in the country, however did you meet?"

"By chance, I s'pose," he shrugged. "She told me she liked my uniform and if I would visit her for tea while her husband was away on business—he traveled frequently."

"I see," Rosalind said, her eyebrow cocked, a wry grin on her face. "You were just abiding by her wishes." She liked Gibbs—he was the fatherly type and a natural storyteller. She liked listening to him talk.

"Of course," Gibbs replied. "Ye see, she and her husband had been tryin' for some time to have children, with no success to speak of. And when her husband would travel he went great distances for sometimes a month or two at a time." He sighed. "She was just seekin' a bit o' companionship, is all."

"How kind of you to provide it," she said, a tinge of laughter hanging on her voice. "I take it the affair was short-lived."

"It was," Gibbs replied. "I thought of askin' her to come along with me, but knew she wouldn't. Why leave her plantation for a sailor?"

"You mean you didn't even ask?"

He shook his head.

"She might have said yes! She might have loved you too!"

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "But everythin' turned out as it should have. Last I heard, she'd finally had the child she had so longed for. She would have no use or time for _me _anymore."

"That's awfully sad… is that why you believe women to be bad luck?"

Gibbs turned and looked at her. He didn't know she knew that.

"Perhaps not all women are bad luck."

* * *

"Tell me a story," she whispered.

Jack chuckled warmly and closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath. "And what kind of story doth mine lady wish to hear?"

"I don't know… you're so good at it," she told him.

It might have been nearing half past noon, but either neither one of them noticed or neither one of them cared. Either way, they were each equally contented to stay in bed until Davy Jones himself invaded their privacy. Elizabeth was comfortable to be nestled in the crook of his arm, her hand splayed across his chest, directly over his steady and smooth heartbeat. As for Jack, he was comfortable to have her there, and as for both of them, they were quite comfortable to be sans any clothing.

There was a long silence as Jack thought of a story she hadn't heard yet until Elizabeth finally said, "tell me how your parents met."

Jack chuckled again. "S'not really a glamorous story, luv."

Elizabeth laughed. "You worry about glamour when we're both lying naked under sheets that have not been washed since I've been here."

"True," Jack agreed, grinning to himself. He was pleased that Elizabeth didn't seem to be bothered by the cleanliness—or lack thereof—in his cabin. "Of course, there was no real relationship to speak of… unless ye consider one balmy September night in a room at the seediest inn in all of Tortuga a relationship."

"Hardly," Elizabeth laughed. She tore herself away from him and propped herself up on her elbow, so as to watch him as he spoke, something she loved to do.

"They met at a pub in a building that doesn't exist anymore… burned down a year or two after me birth," he explained. "Both were just passin' through on their way to better places—which is arguable from a pirate's point of view—and both happened to chose to same establishment for some drink and song.

As me mother tells it, it was more crowded than crowded and as she was on 'er way out the door to retire for the evening, a drunkard who turned out to be the one-an'-only Teague Sparrow stumbled into her and spilled his beverage straight down her back."

"She couldn't have been too pleased," Elizabeth said, grinning.

"Not at first," Jack replied with a smirk. "But he wasn't all that drunk, I s'pose, for he charmed his way out of a real apology. An' she was too beautiful to warrant his distraction, so she agreed to accompany him to his room, where he offered a clean shirt and jacket to replace the one he dirtied.

"One thing led to another an'… me father awoke the next morning with a headache. But at least he was a satisfied man."

"Do you think he cared for your mother greatly?" Elizabeth asked.

Jack laughed heartily and Elizabeth's brow furrowed as she wondered about what she said. "Hell, my father's dalliances with the fairer sex make me look like the bloody pope. But he must 'ave had some affection towards her for every time we visit, he works her into the conversation and always smiles while doin' so."

"That's… somewhat romantic," she said, a warm smile growing on her lips. "Do you think your mother cared for him?"

"Not enough to stick around the next mornin'… an' not enough to seek 'im out and let the poor bastard know she was with-child." He sighed. "But I believe there was some amount of respect there, for his identity was never a secret to me and when she'd tell me stories, they were always magnificent."

"Your talent for storytelling comes from her, then," she concluded.

"Well, he's one for great fabrications as well. At least me mum's were truthful. Perhaps the talent is inherited evenly."

"Perhaps," she agreed. "So I have a pint of ale, good looks and exceeding reputations to thank for having you."

"That you do, Lizzie," he said, winking at her. "I assume it is safe to conclude that your conception was under more proper circumstances."

"My parents were married, yes," she confirmed. "I often wonder how lucky I am to be here, though."

"Not always smooth sailing?" Jack asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, not at first."

"Arranged marriage?"

"Yes, since my mother's birth. My father was already a boy of seven at the time, but their families were old friends and when my mother was born, their dreams of uniting were realized. You see, both my mother and father had all brothers, so when my mother came along, they were quite pleased. And since my father was closest to her in age, they were betrothed from the very beginning."

"Not much choice there, I see."

"No, not at all. Their families lived a great distance from each other and every summer they would bring my mother and father together from August until September in hopes that they would bond and eventually fall in love."

"And did they?"

"Not for many years," Elizabeth laughed. "My father was nearing his twenty-fifth year and my mother had just entered her seventeenth before they recognized something remotely likable in the other. Both just needed to mature, I suppose."

"That's usually how it is, darling." Jack sighed. "Were they at least happy?" He wouldn't say so, but he didn't like the thought of his Lizzie coming from a difficult and uncomfortable household.

"Quite," she said, nodding slightly. "They loved each other very much. I could recognize it in their eyes by the time I was out of swaddling clothes." She was silent for a few moments and her eyes grew soft and sad. "He was devastated when she died. I always thought that a part of him never recovered after that."

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly, reaching out and softly stroking her upper arm.

"It's alright," she replied, exhaling deeply. "As much as I wish I could have had her growing up, I'm not sure that my father and I would have been as close had she lived. Everything happens for a reason… even death."

Jack was about to respond with something witty when Tia Dalma's parting words again flashed through his mind. _Death… is a choice._ He must have been scowling for Elizabeth's expression dropped and she leaned up, looking down at him with worried eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he assured her, quickly flashing her a smile.

"Liar," she said, crossing her arms. "You promised, Jack."

He sighed. "It's really fine, luv, I'm sure it's nothin'. And I wouldn't want to go worryin' ye over nothin' now would I?"

"I promise you, Jack, I _will _be even more worried if you don't tell me."

He sighed again and crinkled his eyebrows. "Just somethin' Tia said when we were leavin', is all."

"Weighing heavily on your mind?"

"A bit," he admitted.

"Well, what did she say?"

"She said… _'death is a choice_.' Whatever that means."

Elizabeth frowned. "It must mean something. Otherwise she wouldn't have said it."

"Aye." He rubbed his chin and shrugged. "No use frettin' over it now. We've more important matters to discuss." He watched her as she visibly relaxed and a lazy smile crept across her lips.

"Like a wedding? Like wedding plans?"

He laughed. "A wedding, yes."

"_Our _wedding," she said contentedly, leaning back into his arms.

"Aye," he said, kissing the top of her forehead. He took a deep breath and tried to listen carefully as she began to chatter about flowers and food and her dress.

He wouldn't admit that he was still worried. What kind of pirate would that make him? But Tia's words kept on echoing through his mind, refusing to let him take part in the lightheartedness that had enveloped his bride-to-be.

_Death… is a choice._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! I hope you all liked it!

Now be good little readers and go review. ;)

See you at ch. 41!


	41. Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**41—Davy Jones & the Flying Dutchman**

**DISCLAIMR: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! Your continued support is very much appreciated.

I'm terribly sorry to reiterate so much dialogue from the movie, but I really wanted to preserve the Davy Jones that the filmmakers created, as he is truly a perfect villain. Sorry if it's boring, but it's gotta be done for this chapter's purposes.

Enjoy!

* * *

The showers continued.

It had been like this for nearly two and a half days of travel time. The rain had not been the most intense that Jack had sailed through, nor the least, but it was manageable all the same, if not an ardent pain in his rear-end. Either way, with or without the rain, the journey to the exact spot that Tia Dalma had promised they would cross paths with Davy Jones had not been a pleasant one.

Tia's ominous warning (or was it a warning?—he wasn't entirely sure) hung over him almost constantly, like the thick, black rainclouds above. As if that wasn't enough to fuss over, Elizabeth's excitement over their wedding only served to make him nervous. Not that he didn't _want _to marry Elizabeth. He did. Very much, in fact.

It was the idea of a _wedding_ that made him uneasy. The idea of a multitude of England's wealthiest (most of which were probably related to his bride-to-be, or at least acquainted with her father) on one side of the aisle, and the pitiful handful of mates he had (who might actually attend) was daunting.

All of those eyes, watching, judging, expecting something out of him… Elizabeth seemed to expect something out of him, but then again, she was his Lizzie. She knew him like no one ever had and likely never would. She recognized something good in him… and just because _she _did didn't mean he expected anyone else to. After all, half of the king's navy was sent after them, with just the thought that they were on the same ship. What was he supposed to do when her father found out they were _getting __**married**_?

Not to mention, he would likely have to take a bath. And tie his hair back. And wear a suit.

"We've spotted the site, Capt'n," Gibbs' familiar, weathered voice announced itself beside him.

"Weddings are messy things," Jack declared.

Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Uh, Capt'n?"

"Weddings, Mister Gibbs. Awful and ridiculous affairs, they are."

"Sir?"

"Why any man would subject himself to that sort of torture and humiliation is beyond me."

Gibbs swallowed. He clearly wasn't going to understand any of this, so he simply nodded and smiled. "Of course, Capt'n."

"I knew I was right," Jack muttered. "Bloody weddings. Yer a good man, Mister Gibbs." He slapped the older man heartily on the back. "Now what was that you were mumblin'?"

"The site, sir. It appears we've reached our heading."

"So I see," Jack said, pretending not to be concerned, but the way he worried away at his bottom lip gave him away.

"S'pose you should be wakin' Miss Swann, then?"

Jack grumbled. "Right. Promised I would, didn't I?"

"Aye, Capt'n. And might I suggest you follow through? We'll be dealin' with the wrath of Davy Jones soon enough and that will be right awful on its own without adding a woman's fury to it."

"Aye," Jack agreed, nodding slightly. "Lower the anchor and take charge until I return. And bring up that traitorous wretch, Maxwell, in the brig," he instructed, referencing the man who tried to force himself on Elizabeth what felt like so many nights ago. He'd been rotting away below decks, waiting for Jack's punishment. Not for the first time, Jack was glad he hadn't killed him earlier. "I expect him to be on the wreckage before I return, or else I fear I may not be responsible for what I might do to him. Besides, I don't want Lizzie to lay eyes on him for the slightest of seconds. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Gibbs?"

"Aye, Capt'n. Clear as crystal."

Without another word, Jack had all but disappeared, off to wake his sleeping Lizzie.

* * *

_The warmth of the bonfire was more than enough to counteract the chill of the night._

_She was, however, not in the slightest bit complaining about the warmth from his body, stemming from his taught chest and the strong arm snaked around her waist._

"_I always knew you'd bring me back here one day," she sighed, leaning into him fully and resting her head on his shoulder._

"_But of course," he nodded, bringing the bottle to his lips before brushing them against her forehead. "This is _our _island, Lizzie."_

"_Our own private paradise," she agreed, smiling up at him._

"_Precisely."_

"_Jack?"_

"_Mm?"_

"_Why didn't you kiss me the last time we were hear? Why did you wait for me to do it first?"_

_He laughed a deep, throaty life._

"_Oh, Lizzie." He turned his head down to look at her. "Lizzie? Lizzie, wake up, darlin'."_

"Elizabeth—Lizzie-Beth…"

"Mmm…" she stretched and popped an eye open.

"That's it, luv. Time to rise an' shine, as the sayin' goes."

"Don't you know better than to raise a lady when she's sleeping?" she asked playfully, yawning and stretching again. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up, reaching her hand out and stroking his thigh as he sat beside her on the bed. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early, as the case may be. But we need to be up, now."

"I was dreaming," she protested.

"I know," he smirked. "You were grinnin' like a feral cat in yer sleep."

"Was I?" she asked, coyly. "I can grin when I'm not asleep, you know." She allowed her fingers to slowly trace their way down his leg until her hand came to rest over his knee. She squeezed lightly. "Given the proper circumstances."

Jack smirked again and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Yes, well, as much as I'd like to make you grin—amongst other things—we've arrived."

Elizabeth suddenly felt nervous. "Is he here?"

"Not yet. But he will be soon. So get up, luv, and get dressed." He leaned forward and very quickly pecked her lips before vanishing from the room. Elizabeth clutched the sheets to her body, wishing he had taken the pit in her stomach with him.

* * *

It took a few moments for Elizabeth's eyes to adjust to the moonlight (or rather, lack thereof) as she stepped outside, on deck. She adjusted her vest and very quickly found Rosalind, waiting for her near the stairs to the quarterdeck.

"Everyone's waiting," Rosalind said, upon Elizabeth's approach. She was nervously wringing her hands together. "Oh, Elizabeth, I'm so frightened…"

"Don't be," Elizabeth said, reaching out and tenderly grazing her friend's arm. "Jack will handle this, I trust him completely."

"Yes," Rosalind said, nodding absentmindedly. "Jack will handle this… either that, Davy Jones will kill us all before eating us."

Elizabeth laughed. "Davy Jones doesn't eat people…" She paused and frowned. "…I don't think."

Rosalind scowled. "Well, Jack better handle this because Will still needs our help."

"I know, and so does he. Everything will be fine," she reassured her. Together, they walked in silence to where Jack was gazing out with his spyglass. The rest of the crew was huddled together, whispering nervously, around various parts of the ship. The rain had stopped, at least for the moment, and Elizabeth chose to take that as a good sign.

"Anything?" Elizabeth asked, trying to hide any traces of trepidation in her voice, as she stepped up beside Jack. Rosalind stood next to Gibbs, who was on Jack's other side.

"I can't tell," Jack sighed, clearly irritated. "There's too much sodding fog." True enough, Elizabeth could only see the very edges of what appeared to be a shipwreck. The rest of the ship, or what was left, anyways, was mired in thick, heavy fog.

"Is that the Flying Dutchman?" Rosalind asked nervously.

"No," Jack shook his head. "When you see the Flying Dutchman—_if_ we see the Flying Dutchman—you'll know." He placed a hand on the small of Elizabeth's back, guiding her away. "Best not stand so close, darling." He motioned to Gibbs, who escorted the two away towards the center of the ship. Elizabeth didn't argue… she could tell Jack was troubled by all of this and didn't want to add to it by making a fuss.

"I wish he would let us help," Elizabeth said quietly, as Gibbs ushered them to stand beside the mast.

"There's nothin' to do, yet," Gibbs sighed. "An' besides. You know how he is."

"I know," Elizabeth replied, crossing her arms. "Has Maxwell been sent?" she asked, pretending not to be bothered by the mere mention of the man's name.

"Aye," Gibbs confirmed.

"Who's Maxwell?" Rosalind asked, her large eyes growing even larger with curiosity.

"A stowaway," Elizabeth answered quickly. She and Gibbs briefly locked eyes before falling silent.

"Jack's using him to coax Jones out of hiding, so to speak," Gibbs continued, casting a knowing glance at Elizabeth before returning his attentions to Jack.

* * *

Several tense moments passed—moments that stretched on, feeling like hours.

Without another moment's notice, however, a ship appeared, shooting out of the ocean depths as if propelled out of a cannon. It's size was massive and it looked like it had been beneath the sea's surface for hundreds of years. The sails were tattered and torn, much more so than the identifiable sails of the Pearl. It was one of the most terrifying and ominous ships Elizabeth had ever seen. Jack was right. They'd seen the Flying Dutchman and she instantly knew it.

She wanted to go to Jack, wanted to stand beside him and wait patiently for Jones' appearance, but at the same time didn't want to distract him. She fought against every instinct in her body and waited for his instruction, something she wasn't entirely used to or even liked doing. But Jack's seriousness earlier only served to highlight the severity of the situation, and so she stayed put.

After about fifteen agonizing minutes or so, Jack snapped his fingers, and without saying a word, Gibbs flocked to his side. Elizabeth and Rosalind were left alone. Another minute had yet to pass before Gibbs returned and Elizabeth could tell by his posture and the way he kept rubbing his chin, as if extremely agitated, that something was happening. Or _about _to.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"He's spotted Jones," Gibbs reported, his voice tense and nervous.

Elizabeth's chest suddenly felt tight and she squeezed her eyes shut, muttering a prayer. Before she could finish, however, she heard Rosalind scream. Her eyes flew open to see men—creatures, really—appearing out of nowhere… they came out of the ship's woodwork, literally, swords and other weapons drawn.

They were almost indescribable… like men that had been taken over by the sea. Some resembled fish, others algae or rocks with barnacles. One looked like a shark, another had the face of a blowfish, spiny and sharp. A large brute of a man, with seaweed for hair and cold, blue skin, stepped out from the very center of the mast. He was massive and it didn't take much for him to grab Rosalind and Elizabeth and hold them completely still. A series of gasps and moans erupted from amongst the crew members.

Elizabeth screamed and shouted and struggled, but to no avail. Nothing she nor Rosalind did was going to free her from this monstrosity's grasp. She looked around her. Every man on deck was being held by one of these creatures, Gibbs included. Quickly, she looked to Jack. Standing in front of him was what she feared, a creature like the others that she could only assume was the one-and-only Davy Jones.

He was truly a fearsome thing to behold. Like the others, undoubtedly his crew, he was a composite of man and sea-beast. He had a lively, wriggling beard of tentacles and one arm and a leg had been replaces by giant crab claws. His clothes were representative of the tattered sails of the Dutchman. The hat he wore was large and pointed, appearing as horns one might expect to see on the Devil himself.

Elizabeth wanted to scream for Jack, but didn't. More so, however, she wanted him to look at her. But he didn't. He barely moved. His sole attention was on Jones.

"Oh," he finally uttered, taking a feeble step backwards. Elizabeth had always thought of him as such a strong, brave man, but beneath Jones he seemed to shrink away. She had never been more afraid for him and she wanted to cry.

"You have a debt to pay," Jones finally spoke, his voice as frightening and deep as she imagined it to be. "You've been captain of the Black Pearl for _thirteen _years. _That _was our agreement."

Elizabeth looked on as Jack paused. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Despite how afraid she was, she still had absolute faith in him.

"Technically, I was only captain for two years and then I was viciously mutinied upon."

"Then you were a poor captain, but a captain nonetheless!" Elizabeth jumped when Jones shouted. He was hunched forward, clearly furious, towering over Jack who could only step backwards in self-defense. "Have ye not introduced yourself all these years as _CAPTAIN _Jack Sparrow!"

Jack's eyes averted Jones and Elizabeth could tell he was thinking quickly, something he was undeniably good at. Jack was definitely a good man to have on your side in a sticky situation. A quick grin formed on his face and she knew he had something.

"You already have my payment. One soul to serve on your ship is already over there," he said, thumbing over his back in the direction of the Flying Dutchman.

"One soul is not equal to another," Jones protested. Smoke billowed from his mouth, the source of which was an intricately carved pipe he held in his hand—or rather, claw.

"Aha!" Jack grinned and snapped his fingers. "So we've established my proposal is sound in principle, now we're just haggling over price." Elizabeth smiled, despite the dull pain that was forming in her arm from where her captor held her. She'd never been so proud of Jack's deviousness.

Suddenly, and to her great relief, Jones seemed intrigued, his interest piqued. "Price?"

Jack leaned forward slightly, which she wished he wouldn't do. She didn't like him being so close to Jones. "Just how many souls do you think my soul is worth, eh?"

Jones stood silent, his dark black eyes averting Jack's. After a moment (a much-to-long moment, for Elizabeth's taste) he looked back at Jack. "One hundred souls. Three days. And I suppose you'd be wantin' me to send back your mate?"

"Of course not, keep the poor bastard for all I care," Jack said, waving his hand nonchalantly. "A good faith payment an' all that."

"That leaves you only ninety-nine souls to go," Jones snarled, a sinister grin on his malformed lips.

Jack squirmed and an uneasy look spread across his face. "Aye… ninety… nine." Suddenly, he seemed to perk up, grinning again. "Shall we seal it in blood—I mean… ink?"

Without much of a warning, Jones suddenly listed forward and grabbed Jack by the arm, enveloping his entire hand with his tentacles. An uncomfortable, strangled moan escaped from somewhere in the back of Jack's throat. Elizabeth good hear the amused, sickening laughter of Jones' crew erupting from all around her as the tight grip on her arm disappeared.

"Three days," Jones' voice echoed throughout the ship and suddenly, he and his men were gone. There was absolutely no evidence that the Flying Dutchman had ever been there at all.

"Jack!" Elizabeth ran to Jack and flung her arms around his neck, relieved beyond recognition that he hadn't been killed or instantly taken into Jones' captivity. She planted a firm kiss on his lips before stepping down and standing beside him. She grimaced when she noticed the slime left in Jones' wake, dripping from Jack's hand and landing in gooey drops on the deck of the Pearl.

"It's gone!" Jack squealed, exhibiting an excitement that more resembled a child on Christmas than a pirate. He shook his hand in her direction and splayed his palm. She studied it and, sure enough, the black spot was gone.

"Thank God," Elizabeth said excitedly, squeezing his arm.

Suddenly, Gibbs appeared at Jack's other side, Rosalind not far behind him. Her eyes were wide and she looked slightly wobbly—still clearly reeling from the whole experience.

"Mr. Gibbs," Jack said, a dazed look glassing over his eyes.

"I hate to interrupt, but just how are we expected to harvest one-hundred souls in three days??" Rosalind asked.

Jack smirked. "Fortunately, His Fishness was mum as the condition in which said-souls need be."

Gibbs smiled. "Ah… Tortuga!"

"Tortuga," Jack concurred.

A squishy noise was heard as Jack wiped his dirtied hand on Gibbs' vest.

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for this chapter!

I know people are busy and whatnot, but I haven't been getting a lot of reviews, so I'm not sure exactly when I'll be updating next. Now that I've gotten Jones out of the way, I'm hoping its within a month, but I'm not making any promises.

Thanks for reading, now (PLEASE!!) go review! See you next time!


	42. Bloody Pirate

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**42—Bloody Pirate**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, but I've been terribly sick. No fun at all—my deepest apologies for the month+ delay in updating. Between being sick and Christmas shopping and finals and my internship, there's been NO time at all… this chapter is a _tad _short, but I really wanted to make sure I got something up before Christmas.

Thanks for your patience and your continued reviews and thanks even to everyone who hasn't reviewed, but has added me and any of my stories to their "favorites" list. It means a lot! Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

The sun had barely begun to peak its head over the horizon, leaving the sky with the faintest of glows. A few stars not yet ready to go to bed were still dotted across the skies. The ocean was smoother than glass and there was a breeze too slight to help the Pearl glide along her way towards Tortuga.

The ship itself was sleepy—only a few sailors were on shift. All was quiet and calm and Elizabeth found herself just starting to wake up from a much-needed good night of sleep. Since Jack had been pinpointed by Davy Jones, good nights of sleep had been few and far between. Now that he was free from Jones' mark, however, she found herself feeling peaceful and content. There was little to be worried about lately and that was how she liked things.

She yawned and stretched every limb and muscle in her body. She smiled when the tips of her toes came into contact with the warm body next to her. Rolling onto her side, she propped herself up on her elbow so she could just watch him. He was lying flat on his stomach, one arm under his head and the other at his side. His face was buried in the pillow so that only half of it was visible.

Elizabeth spent several contended moments just watching him sleep, fully enjoying the absolute state of peace Jack was in. Like herself, sleep for him had been a fleeting luxury since he had been branded by Jones. Though he would never admit how worried he had actually been, she knew he was grateful for the rest.

Getting out of bed was a sight that would have amused him had he been awake. She wanted to make doubly sure she did not wake him, so she slowly and carefully peeled back the covers and crawled to the end of the bunk. She then stood up, balancing herself along the wall and crouching so her head wouldn't hit the ceiling in the constricting space.

She bit her lip to keep from grinning and giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation as she cautiously stepped over Jack's feet. When she reached the edge of the bunk, she looked over her shoulder at the sleeping pirate, more than pleased with herself for not waking him or even causing him to stir.

Elizabeth elegantly placed her foot on the floor, still basking in her success. Instead of stepping onto the hard, wooden planks, however, she stepped on a soft, squishy, discarded pillow. This unexpectedly upset her balance and she stumbled to the floor with a hefty thud and a girlish (very _un-pirate_ like) shriek.

"What, what?!?!" She looked up, rubbing her sore elbow and knee, to see that Jack was sitting full upright, looking around for her.

"Over here," she groaned, rolling over and sitting on her backside so she could face him. "So much for not waking you up," she grumbled.

Jack rubbed his bleary eyes before they focused on her, widening slightly. His head cocked to the side with amused curiosity before a smirk curled up onto his lips.

"Lizzie…" he began, a mocking concern in his voice, "what are you doing?"

"I was trying not to wake you," she said plainly, as if it were no big deal at all. She already knew, however, that the crimson in her cheeks had given her away.

"And you ended up on the floor because…?"

"Because I'm such a good person, I went to extremes to let you sleep," she replied quickly. "But alright, perhaps tonight I shall sleep on the outside of the bunk so this doesn't happen again."

Jack snorted. "Absolutely not." He crossed his arms and puffed his chest out to convey his seriousness, but Elizabeth would have none of it.

"And why not?" she asked, grinning cheekily at him.

He was silent, his head moving in a slow, circular motion as if he was deep in thought, racking his mind for a reasonable, Lizzie-proof answer. "Because," he finally said, keeping his arms crossed as a clear indication that he was going to offer no other explanation.

"Because?" She rose to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. "So either you have no real reason or you _do _and you refuse to share it with me."

"Yes," he chimed, "that's the one. I refuse."

Elizabeth forced her irritation away and instead eased a coy smile onto her lips. She ever-so-slowly crossed the three steps towards him before sinking down onto his lap. She encircled her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, moving her head towards his so that their lips were a tantalizing mere inches apart.

"If you tell me," she whispered, placing one hand on his belly and splaying it before allowing her fingers to dance their way down the thin patch of hair that disappeared beneath his breeches. "I promise to make it worth your while tonight."

"Promise to make it worth my while right now and you've got yourself a deal," he said with a wink and a smirk.

"Alright then," she consented, leaning in and languidly kissing him before whispering in the most sultry voice she could muster, "but tell me first."

He took a deep breath and averted his eyes, clearly torn between keeping his thoughts to himself and the incentive for sharing in the form of his Lizzie.

"I prefer the outside of the bunk because…" he paused for a moment. Elizabeth leaned down and kissed his jaw, reminding him of the promise she'd made. "Ah… Lizzie… if you keep that up I'll have my way with you right here, right now before I'm able to muster another word."

"Well then. In that case, perhaps I'll leave you to your precious bunk for some personal alone time," she said slyly, beginning to slide off his lap.

"Not so fast, Miss Swann," he said, snaking his arm around her waist and holding her firmly against him. He took another deep breath before continuing. "In the event that the Pearl is attacked in the midst of the night, and during which said-event our attackers are able to make their way to this cabin unannounced… they'll have to go through me before ever getting to you."

"Oh…" Elizabeth was more than taken aback by this. She adored these subtle, unspoken declarations of love she got from him. She wondered if he even knew that that was what he was doing. She wondered if he knew that he made her heart melt and her insides turn to jelly when he did such things. She doubted that he did.

"So there. Perhaps it's a stupid reason, but I'm the captain of this vessel and what I say—"

"It's not stupid, Jack," she said, silencing him by placing two fingers over his lips. "It's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard."

He smiled for a brief moment before fully realizing the correlation that had been made. "I'm not _sweet_," he insisted, "pirates are not _sweet_."

Elizabeth laughed. "This one is, whether he cares to acknowledge it or not," she told him. "But very well. Shall I fetch you a bottle of rum so you can reassert your masculinity?"

Jack smirked. He wanted to pin her to the bed and declare that he didn't need a bottle of rum to reassert his masculinity, but the previous offer she had made involving her body _and _the taste of his most beloved beverage was too much to pass up. He assumed they would make a fetching combination.

"My Lizzie, you know the way to me heart too well," he said, releasing his grip on her and allowing her to slip off his lap. He watched her, propped up on one elbow, as she slowly and temptingly (which he _knew _she was fully aware of) gathered her clothing and got dressed.

She moved back to the bed and leaned over, kissing him very slowly the lips before winking at him and walking towards the cabin door. "I'll be right back," she called, quietly closing the door behind her.

Elizabeth blinked several times as she stepped outside, nearly blinded for the millionth time by the glory of the sunrise. She thought that by now she would have fully adjusted to a life at sea and in many ways, she had. She was in no way discontent with her life Jack. She loved him through all his infuriating little personality quirks and she loved the life that they had slowly, but steadily, built together.

She had adjusted to the lifestyle and she would never trade it for anything, but there were still things she missed about her life in the governor's mansion. She missed her father—terribly—and she knew she always would. She certainly didn't miss the pomp and circumstance that came with her previous lifestyle, but she wouldn't turn down a hot bath at the moment…

She was making her way towards the cellar when she spotted a head of long, dark hair at the railing, staring out at sea.

"Good morning, Miss Avery," she said cheerfully, stopping beside her.

Rosalind, clearly lost deep in thought, jumped at Elizabeth's greeting. She placed her hand on her chest and gasped. "Elizabeth! I wasn't expecting you to be awake this early."

"I could say the same for you," Elizabeth noted. "What's wrong? Couldn't sleep?"

"No," Rosalind said, her head falling. "I've had trouble with it for the past few days."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Elizabeth asked, concerned. "What's troubling you?"

Rosalind sighed, looking up at Elizabeth for a brief moment before looking back out towards the horizon. "It's Will," she finally admitted. "Oh, Liz, I'm so worried about him…"

Elizabeth's eyes drifted away from her friend's face. A plague of guilt washed over her as she realized she hadn't thought about Will in days. She'd been so preoccupied with Jack and Davy Jones and all the finite details in between that she hadn't taken a single moment to think about her long-lost friend.

"He's wasting away in jail waiting for me, depending on me… I just don't know if I can—"

"You can," Elizabeth reassured her, taking her by the hand. "You can and you will. Not only that, _we _will. You're not alone in this."

"I know Jack's a bit inattentive about Will, and understandably so with his own problems," Rosalind said slowly. "I just don't want him to be forgotten." She looked back to Elizabeth, her dark eyes glistening. "I miss him so very much."

Elizabeth studied the pained look on Rosalind's face before a realization forced a grin onto her face. "You like him!"

"What?" Rosalind's nose crinkled.

"You _like _him. A lot, admit it."

Rosalind looked completely aghast. "I… I do not!" she declared. "He's a friend is all and he was so good to me when my father left my in Port Royal. I owe a great deal to him, but that's all."

"I'm sure it is," Elizabeth said wryly. "It's okay if you have feelings for him. I have no claim to him."

"Well…" Rosalind sighed. "I suppose the idea of someone like _me _having feelings for him is not completely insurmountable." She paused for several moments. "After all, he is…"

"Handsome, loyal, kind, hard-working…" Elizabeth rambled on. "Repulsive qualities, really."

"Oh yes, repulsive," Rosalind said, smiling. Her eyes fluttered towards Elizabeth and both burst into laughter. "Oh, my parents would be horrified to know their daughter had fallen for a blacksmith."

"Yes, well, as far as I'm concerned, your parents forfeited any right to control who and who you don't have feelings for," Elizabeth reminded her. "Not that anyone did beforehand." They were both silent for a few minutes. "So are you going to tell him? When we rescue him, that is."

"Oh, no!" Rosalind shook her head, her dark hair falling off her shoulders and cascading down her back. "I couldn't. I really couldn't."

"You can!" Elizabeth protested. "And you should, don't you think he would want to know?"

"I don't know, that's the thing," Rosalind said. "I have absolutely no idea where his heart lies. Me telling him the whereabouts of my own would be completely ludicrous."

"So you're not going to tell him and throw away what could be the most marvelous thing that ever happened to you because you're _unsure _of his own feelings?" Elizabeth asked. "That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Excuse me?" Rosalind said, her voice reflecting how offended she was.

"Rosalind, love is about risk and taking chances," Elizabeth told her. "Where do you think Jack and I would be if we both played it safe all the time?"

Rosalind's eyes fell again. When she looked back up after a moment of thought, she had a slight smile on her face. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," Elizabeth replied. She stepped forward and gave her friend a much-needed hug.

"Well what are you doing awake, then?" Rosalind asked when they pulled apart.

"Rum. Jack. Need I say more?"

Rosalind laughed. "Well you better get to it then. Don't want to have a cranky pirate on your hands!"

"Right," Elizabeth smiled, rolling her eyes. "You get to your thinking and I'll get to my—Jack's—rum."

* * *

"Jack?" Elizabeth pushed the door to the cabin open, bottle of rum firmly in hand. She was halfway across the room when she heard a muffled snore.

She could have opted to be angry with him for falling asleep, but she wasn't. She set the bottle of rum down on his nightstand and crouched down beside him, stroking his bare back lightly with her fingertips. "Bloody pirate," she whispered.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!

HAVE A SAFE AND HAPPY HOLIDAY, EVERYBODY!


	43. Standstill

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**43—Standstill**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Hello everyone… first and foremost I would like to thank you, the readers, for faithfully staying with this story. Your reviews and encouragement mean more than I can adequately express. I promised I would not abandon this story and I fully intend to keep that promise.

Second of all, I would like to apologize for not updating sooner. Truth be told, I needed to take a break from writing for awhile, as my inspiration ran away from me and writing stopped being fun, and felt more like a chore. After several deep breaths and a nice glass (or two) of wine, I've gotten to a place where I feel that I can successfully start writing again.

Third of all, I contemplated re-watching this particular scene of DMC to make sure I pinpointed every detail with great dexterity, but eventually chose not to, so that I wasn't' rehashing the same dialogue over and over. So if something isn't quite right, bear with me. Just call it creative license. ;)

Fourth (and last), I've had a bit of feedback concerning the direction of this story. Some people have commented in reviews and PMs that this is too much of a "what-if" story of the trilogy if Jack and Elizabeth had been together. While I'm aware that this might not be the most original concept, that is, in fact, the type of story I intended to write from the very beginning. So at the risk of losing readers, if you want a story that has a more original concept, this story might not be for you.

So. With that being said… to those of you who have eagerly been awaiting the next chapter, the ones who've added this story (or me as an author) to your favorites and/or alerts list, those who have loyally reviewed every chapter upon reading it… the rest of this story is whole-heartedly dedicated to you, without whom I would not have the courage to continue writing. Cheers!

Enjoy!

* * *

_Tortuga—Saturday morning_

The sun had only been fresh in the sky for just shy of three hours, and it was already hot to an almost unbearable extent. The humidity wasn't helping matters much either. The majority of the town was already still asleep—most of whom were still hung over from the night before or already nursing a new mug of ale.

James Norrington did not fit into either category. On this particular morning, that was.

On this Saturday, he found himself on his beach, his own patch of sand and dirt and canopy that had been home since he lost his post. His failure to capture Jack Sparrow was all Lord Beckett needed to relieve him from his duties and his consequent failure to safely bring Elizabeth home left the governor unsympathetic and uninspired to show him mercy and find a position for him elsewhere.

His once good name now stood tarnished, creating an embarrassment for himself that left him feeling so ashamed that he refused his father's invitation to return to the family estate in England. Without a job or a title, he was left unable to afford a living in Port Royal. He disappeared to Tortuga, a place he _still _despised, where he picked up drinking and sliding into a downward spiral that left him volatile, bitter and cynical.

He rented a room for awhile at one of Tortuga's many seedy inns, but when money started to become tighter and tighter, his penchant for booze and his newer inclination towards the company of questionable ladies forced him to make a choice. He ultimately decided that the Caribbean provided decent enough weather to live out of doors, allowing him to seek comfort in alcohol and the type of individual he once would have had authority to take into custody.

He woke up this particular morning without the usual throb in his temples, chiefly because he'd been so hung over the previous day that he passed out earlier than he typically did and slept through most of the afternoon and all night. He also woke up, much to his chagrin, with his face in the sand and a growl in his stomach that he had little money to satisfy.

With a groan and a grunt, he pushed himself up and rolled over onto his back, sputtering and spitting to get the grit out of his mouth. He stretched, then instantly recoiled, at a sharp pain in his side. He was certain that he'd broken a rib or two in his latest bar fight, and his most recent tryst with the tawny blonde he favored did little to help things. He favored her, though, because when he closed his eyes halfway and ignored the sound of her voice, he could pretend she was a very different someone who he dreamt about almost nightly.

But she was gone. Warming someone else's bed. Loving _him_. Doing God-knows-what with _him_. That Elizabeth was so far from the Elizabeth he'd dreamt of making his wife, the one he had hoped to love and cherish and the one who he had hoped would love and cherish him. She was no longer the sweet and pious governor's daughter. She was a pirate. And it was all _his _fault.

"Jack Sparrow," he found himself muttering, to no one at all, for there was no one to hear him. He had never hated anyone or anything quite as much as he hated that man.

It would have been very easy to hate him on the basis that the one woman who had ever meant anything to him was now, in fact, _his_, but it was a hatred that seared much deeper than that. He truly believed right down to the very basis of his soul that it was Jack Sparrow's influence that changed Elizabeth from what she was then into what she was now.

There was also the consideration that Jack epitomized everything that James found to be wrong with the world. He had absolutely no regard for the law, no sense of what was right and wrong, no sense of justice. He saw himself as the very scourge of piracy in the eastern Caribbean and saw Jack as the very heartbeat of piracy itself.

It was Jack who manipulated and warped Elizabeth's mind.

It was Jack who evaded arrest time and again, causing not only himself but the entire Royal Navy undue embarrassment.

It was Jack who made him the wretch, the shell of a man that he currently was.

It was Jack who made a mockery of everything that James stood for.

He _would _make him pay. If it took a lifetime, he would make him pay. Capturing the great Captain Jack Sparrow was the surest way to getting his life back. It would not win him Elizabeth's affections, but surely earn him her hatred. But it would be worth it. It would be entirely worth it to see Sparrow's boots dangling in the breeze.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with his dirtied coat sleeve and turned around, grabbing his discarded wig and hat and placing them—despite their tatterdness—back upon his head. For now, it was time to start another day.

He heard the jingling of the few schillings he had left as he stood up. They'd get him through the day, at least. If he made it through the night… he'd worry about tomorrow then.

* * *

_Tortuga—late Saturday afternoon_

Will Turner stepped off the dock, pausing to look to the left and then to the right. His back ached and his neck was pinched from his drastically cramped bunk aboard _The Seaman's Folly_, the seedy (if not convenient) fishing vessel he was able to acquire a passage on from Port Royal to Tortuga.

As for Tortuga itself, it felt eerily quiet, hardly the vivacious, lively place it had been on his last visit. Then again, the sun had yet to hide its face, and he suspected that once it nestled itself beneath the horizon, the atmosphere would change.

With the Letters of Marque safely tucked inside his jacket, he made his way towards town. He would find an inn where he could rest until nightfall, a place where at the very least, he could stay hidden. He had no doubt that Lord Beckett would have the full force of the navy looking for him, complete with a "dead-or-alive" bounty on his head. He sighed, watching his boots as he walked, keeping his head down.

His life had been so simple once. A little blacksmith in a little shop in Port Royal. He festered his love for an unattainable woman from afar. And then the Black Pearl sailed into his life and things hadn't quite been the same since, nor would they ever be again, he assumed. He half-smiled to himself, almost unsure as to which life he preferred.

There once was a time when he thought he would die without ever having told Elizabeth how he truly felt. She would marry some dignitary or a lord or a commodore, and he would hammer away at his anvil and pine for her for the rest of his days. It was almost humorous to him how much that didn't even matter anymore. True, a part of his heart would always belong to Elizabeth—she had been his first friend in the world and the one who helped him start over again after that fateful day so many years ago. But he never would have imagined that his heart would one day cease to swell at the mere mention of her name, or a distant glance from across the room.

Will had long since accepted the fact that Elizabeth was never going to be his, and astonishingly, was alright with it.

It wasn't that there was someone else… well, he wasn't entirely sure. Rosalind had come into his life at the most unexpected of times and his budding feelings for her (were they _feelings? _He wasn't entirely sure…) were constantly at the top of his thoughts.

And while he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he had romantic feelings for the girl, one thing was absolutely certain. He thought about her _constantly_. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, who she was with. He wanted to know if she was safe or in danger, cold or hungry, alone, frightened? He cared deeply about what happened to her.

There was something in her that he recognized, something that he saw in himself. He had yet to determine what that something was, or even if these budding thoughts were worth sharing with her. Time would tell.

He reached what appeared to be the center of town and found only bars… and more bars. He looked over his shoulder. Surely there had to be an inn around here somewhere. At the very least, he would need to find the darkest of areas in which to lay low until nightfall. It would take him away from the harbor, where he preferred to be in the event that he could spot the Black Pearl, should she arrive. But for the time being, he had to consider his own safety.

There were so many things he was uncertain of. He didn't know if he was at all in the right place to find Jack and Elizabeth, and hopefully Rosalind. He prayed that she was with them. He'd heard so many rumors about the Pearl from the crew of _The Seaman's Folly_, most of which he didn't believe, but couldn't help but worry over. Despite these uncertainties, he knew that at the very least, Tortuga was a start. If Jack Sparrow wasn't nearby, he would hopefully find someone who knew of his whereabouts.

There was one thing he was entirely certain of, however. Beckett's reign of terror was nowhere close to being over. At the very pit of his stomach he had the uneasiest of feelings… a feeling that the end was quite near.

* * *

_Tortuga—Saturday night_

"I don't like this place," Rosalind whispered loudly. She was sitting so close that Elizabeth wondered how long it would be before she crawled into her lap. Elizabeth herself was sulking. She would much rather be where Jack was, doing all that she could to recruit the necessary souls to save his life. Instead she found herself pocketed away, cradling a mug of ale that she didn't even want, watching her lover intently from across the room.

"It does leave very little to be desired," she agreed. "But Jack's right. This is the best place to satisfy Jones' demands."

"I understand," Rosalind said. "However, I'm beginning to wish I hadn't refused the drink he offered."

"Take mine," Elizabeth replied, sliding it across the table towards her friend. "I'm far too tense to find any relief in it." She glanced to Rosalind as she tentatively picked up the mug, raised it to her lips and with a slight gulp, slugged down her first sip. The face she made was priceless and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at the sounds of repulsion that followed.

"A wretched substance," Rosalind coughed, sticking her tongue out.

"Your first taste of alcohol, I presume?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aside from the wine my parents would serve," she confirmed. "Still…" she closed her eyes as she took another swig. "…better than nothing."

"Some might argue otherwise," Elizabeth said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand as her elbow met the table.

"Oh, cheer up, Lizzie. If there's anyone who can wrangle himself out of a mess of this caliber, its Jack. You and I both know it."

"He does have a way of rescuing himself. But I fear that Jones is unlike any adversary he's faced, whether he's willing to reconcile with it or not."

Rosalind chuckled. "I do believe Jones is unlike any adversary that any man has ever come up against. Besides, I'm choosing to focus on the positive. As soon as your captain has solved his problem, we can set to work on rescuing Will."

"I'll drink to that." Elizabeth smiled softly, lifting the mug from Rosalind's hand and tilting her head back.

* * *

"Here, here!"

James' head shot up at the sound of a fist slamming down mere inches from his ear. When had he passed out?

"This establishment is fer payin' customers. If ye wish to sleep, ye'll do it elsewhere."

James scowled and sat up. He wrapped his fingers around the bottle in front of him and raised it to his lips only to find… nothing. It was empty.

"Your bloody _establishment _is quickly losing its appeal," he slurred, spinning around on his stool and nearly tumbling onto the floor in the process. He regained his balance before cursing at said stool and telling it to watch itself if it wanted to remain upright.

He was headed for the front door when he noticed a line of men in the center of the overly-crowded bar. He grabbed a passing bar wench by the elbow.

"What's here?" he asked, blinking hard as his vision refocused.

"Recruitment opportunity," she replied. "For the Black Pearl." She paused. "Doubt they'd take you." She cackled as she yanked her arm loose and walked away.

He didn't hear her though. His ears were ringing.

"_For the Black Pearl."_

The…

Black…

Pearl…

He felt his blood begin to boil, his cheeks flushing with hot warmth.

The time had come. His moment had finally come.

* * *

The night was still relatively young and already Will had a headache. He'd been to two bars with no sign of Jack Sparrow and no one who either knew where he was and wasn't willing to tell him, or honestly had no idea of his or Elizabeth's whereabouts. He'd been by the harbor several times to search for those famous black sails with no luck. If Jack was in Tortuga, which he doubted, he'd hidden the Pearl in a lagoon or a sheltered cove and out of sight.

He didn't even bother to register the name of the third bar he entered, taking a deep breath as the familiar odor of rum and vomit filled his nostrils. The place, much like the others, was noisy and crowded. It was hard to get a good lay of the room with the number of bodies in it. There was a sea of heads so thick that concealed the majority of the space.

He turned to his left and was ready to head to the bar to press whoever he could for information when an overtly loud commotion in the center of the room startled him. It sounded as though a table had been thrust over and a brawl was getting ready to ensue. He briskly turned to the right at what his first instinct told him was a remarkably familiar voice—with an even more familiar name attached to it.

"So am I _worthy _to sail under the command of Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Will furrowed his brow and quickly pushed his way to the center of the bar, pushing several individuals out of the way as he went.

* * *

Elizabeth returned to the table, two full mugs of ale in her hands.

"Thank god you've returned," Rosalind exclaimed, eagerly accepting one of the mugs as Elizabeth slid back into her seat.

"Why, has some lowlife attached himself to you?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"No, no, nothing like that. I thought it would be an eternity before I had my own drink."

Elizabeth laughed. "My, my. What _have _I done to you?"

"Bound to happen," Rosalind said, listlessly shrugging her shoulders.

"Have I missed anything?" Elizabeth asked, motioning her head towards Gibbs and Jack. A gentleman stood at the table, his back to them. Though his face remained hidden, his disheveled appearance suggested that he could easily be one of the lost-soul recruits Jack was looking for.

"Not too much, no. Four have signed and this one's the fifth."

"Only… four," Elizabeth sighed. She took a deep breath and tried her hardest to swallow down her disappointment. She raised her mug towards Rosalind's. "Well, here's to the other 96."

"96 it is!"

They clinked their beverages together and Elizabeth had just raised the rim of the mug to her lips when a great crash broke—the result of the table being flipped onto its side, Gibbs thrown onto his back. She was on her feet in less than a minute, her drink forgotten and tumbled to the ground, one hand on her pistol and the other on her sword. She had just reached Jack's side, who instinctively took a step in front of her, when the face of the assailant became known to her, and she felt her heart break.

"James," his name had barely escaped her lips when she heard a hefty, _"move!"_ and the crowd parted to reveal another familiar face which made her breath catch in astonished relief.

And there stood three parties, reunited at the standstill that had become their lives.

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for this chapter… expect the next to start off with a bang, as memory serves! ;)

Please review!

Many thanks,

Princess of the Pearl


	44. Fallout

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**44—Fallout **

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **I just want to thank everyone for your wonderful reviews and supreme support and encouragement. I know a mere "thank you," doesn't quite cover it, but it's all I got. *Sends everyone virtual milk and cookies* I know this chapter is a bit short, but I wanted to get it out right away, and the end didn't lend itself into a smooth transition with what I wanted to write next. The next chapter will be longer.

Second-off, I dedicate this chapter to my ever-supportive mom, who has encouraged my writing (fan-fic or not) from whence it started way back in the third grade. Thanks, mamma, and happy birthday!

Enjoy!

* * *

Elizabeth watched, her mind moving in rapid faction for words that would not come. She wanted to address Will, and so did Rosalind, who had appeared behind her—but the gun in James' hands left everyone silent, their standstill proceeding.

Despite her lingering guilt from the night of the hurricane, she was about to (again) appeal to her former fiancée in an emotional sense, to plead with him in any way she could to take her current fiancée out of the line of fire, of which he was so often in. But before she had the chance to approach her pirate-based prowess and bat her eyelashes in his direction, two of Jack's new "recruits" came stampeding from the sidelines and grabbed his arm.

"Easy there, sailor!" one of them shouted.

"That's our capt'n yer threat'n!" shouted the other.

James, taken quite off-guard by this, nearly toppled over as his arm was directed upwards. The gun unexpectedly fired and somewhere in the background, Elizabeth heard glass breaking. Chaos ensued and she felt Jack take hold of her hand.

"Time to go?" asked Gibbs, approaching him through the rapidly building pandemonium.

"Time to go," Jack agreed. "Come on, Lizzie. Ros, you too."

"What about Will?" Rosalind cried, looking into the brawling crowd in which Will had been enveloped.

"And James—we can't leave him," Elizabeth protested.

"We can and we will. This is no place for either of you," Jack disagreed. He started to shuffle them towards the nearest exit. "Gibbs, fetch the boy," he swiftly ordered, "and meet us at the Pearl."

Rosalind argued no further argument, but looked over her shoulder worriedly as Jack place his hand on the small of both ladies' backs, ushering them away. Elizabeth, however, abruptly dug in her heels and crossed her arms, glaring at him defiantly.

"Lizzie, you know more'n anyone how I admire your stubbornness, but now is not the time," he said firmly. Rosalind shrieked as two drunken brawlers toppled into her, nearly knocking her over. Elizabeth was forced to fight against her instincts and stay put. She had too.

"Not for you, perhaps, but I refuse to leave."

"Lizzie—"

"I nearly killed him once and I always swore that if I had a chance to make it right without sacrificing your freedom, I would do it. You saw the state of him just as well as I. He has no jurisdiction anymore."

Jack stared at her—partly annoyed but mostly immensely proud of her fierce ability to stand up for herself and fight for her opinion. That was something he hadn't truly seen since his mother died.

"There you are!" Will appeared from the mob and Rosalind immediately leapt to him, throwing her arms around his waist.

"Orders, capt'n?" Gibbs asked, quickly ducking a flying bottle which collided into the wall behind their heads and splintered into a thousand pieces, droplets of alcohol spraying everywhere.

"You and William corral the crew and get her out of here," Jack instructed. Rosalind had yet to learn how to wield a sword and for the time being, she would be more of a hindrance than anything else. But he kept this to himself, to spare her feelings and have Lizzie be even more cross with him than she already was. Gibbs nodded and Will looked slightly irritated, which Jack knew had something to do with his inability to show off his impressive (even though Jack wouldn't admit it) swordsmanship. But he did was he was told and the three of them quickly disappeared into the mob, Will fending off would-be brawlers as they went.

"You know how to use it," Jack said, smirking and nodding towards the sword on Elizabeth's belt. She hadn't the time to thank him, however, as she heard a loud grunt behind her and a burly pirate twice her size was ready to fight.

She half-expected Jack to come rushing to her aide, but he himself was already immersed in combat. She knew that when given the choice of "fight or flight," he preferred flight, but when given no choice, he was a damn good fighter. Anyone would be more than lucky to have the great Captain Jack Sparrow on their side.

She took out her opponent by swiftly knocking the sword out of his hand and taking him down by offering a swift kick between the legs—she was not above fighting dirty if she had to. Most of the men around her were fighting hand-to-hand, and those she avoided. Jack had taught her enough about how to use her sword and pistol, but if left without them, she bore the disadvantage.

Her weapon left many uninspired to take her on, and so she focused more on finding James in the confusion around them. Jack was somewhere behind her and she knew she need not worry about him. She turned sharply to her left and by what must have been sheer coincidence, she caught James stumbling out from the crowd. He didn't notice her and instead tilted his head back, taking a long swig from a bottle that must have been left unattended by someone else along the way.

Elizabeth quickly lunged for him, dodging attacks left and right, and grabbed him by the wrist. He turned sharply towards her, ready to fight as best he could despite his drunken stupor, when he realized it was her.

"Elizabeth…" he started, his face softening for a brief moment and he smiled at her. Then he just looked confused. "When did you get here?"

"When did I—" her eyes widened and a piece of her heart broke right then and there. She had no details to go on, nothing exact had been conveyed to her, but she knew where this was coming from. From the sheer appearance of him, she knew his life had spiraled out of control, and she knew exactly when that downward spiral started. This was _her _doing.

"Never mind that now," she said gently, but loudly, so as to be heard over the roar of their surroundings. "We need to get out of here."

"I'm not goin' anywhere with you, wench!" he spat, taking another long sip from his bottle. She rolled her eyes, half convinced he wasn't really aware of what he was saying. But if he was, she wouldn't argue with him. She deserved his hatred.

"Come on," she persisted, tugging on him and pulling him towards the center of the room, where there seemed to be less chaos and where she could more easily spot Jack. About halfway there, however, she was sidetracked by another rum-toting brute who wanted to fight. Again, he was bigger than her, and stronger, too. She was beginning to tire and one false mood could be fatal.

She was distracted as it was, not knowing what had happened to James, when her opponent quickly smacked her hand with his sword-wielding fist, knocking her own weapon out of reach. He was large and bald and knowing he'd won the advantage, he grinned a nearly toothless grin at her. She began to fumble for her pistol, more than ready to use it if she had to, but he was too fast, and he backhanded her. Her cheek immediately stung as she found herself flung to the floor.

She quickly flipped onto her back and tried to scramble away, but her opponent's shadow loomed over her and she couldn't get far as she found herself awash in a sea of boots. She winced, prepared for a blow as she saw him raise his sword, when out of nowhere the tip of an unseen attacker's sword quickly slashed across his face. The brute wailed in pain and she looked up to see Jack standing above her, scowling. With his available hand, he swooped down and latched onto her, pulling her to her feet.

"My sword," was all she could say, her head darting around in search of it. "I've lost my sword!"

"Forget it, it doesn't matter," he said quickly.

"That's it!" Before he could administer to her, Norrington was once again causing a scene, brandishing his bottle around as if it were a weapon. "Form an orderly line; I'll have you all one by one!"

The room fell silent as he continued to embarrass himself.

"And that's the man you wanted to stay for," Jack said lowly, shaking his head.

"Come on, whose fast?!" Norrington continued.

At this point, Elizabeth had had enough. Maybe it was being smacked across the face, maybe it was nearly being gutted, but she was finished. She marched over to him, snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it quickly over his head. The room immediately erupted into cheers and applause, and before she could bend down to help the fallen former commodore to his feet, a large group of rowdy men were hauling him up into their arms. She watched, rather helplessly, as they carried him off towards the door. She looked over her shoulder when she felt Jack lightly take hold of her elbow.

"Ye've done all ye can for him now, Lizzie. S'time to go."

Elizabeth sighed. "Unfortunately, not yet." She left him standing there as she walked to where they'd carried James and by the time she reached the door, they were all cavorting and laughing again, James not among them. She squeezed out, unnoticed, to the vast and horribly pungent vat of mud in which he'd been disposed.

She carefully knelt down beside him and gently placed one hand on his back. "James Norrington," she said his name softly, sadly. He had just enough strength to look up at her, his eyes wide and almost frightened. "What have I done to you?"

She looked up when she heard another pair of boots, Jack's, squishing in the mud on James' opposite side. "Come on," he sighed. She watched as he tucked his hands under James' arm, preparing to lift him.

"Perhaps we could acquire a room for him? Just so I can leave knowing he'll be someplace safe?"

"Nonsense," Jack grimaced. "You'll never be satisfied with that—yer heart's too big for it. He'll come with us. And not as a part to satisfy my debt."

Elizabeth stared at him, his tenderness taking her off-guard and her eyes threatening to spill over with tears. "Thank you," she said. He only smiled and nodded and together they hauled him to his feet.

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for now—short, I know, but the next one will be longer. And next time I'll be including more on that whole "death is a choice" thing I've been throwing around. ;-)

Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	45. Arrangements

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**45—Arrangements**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **After much delay, here is the next chapter. I would just like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your patience and remind you that no matter how long it takes, I _will _finish this story. I have a lot of ideas for later parts of this story and very few for the part I'm working on now, so please bear with me! I will finish, I promise!

With that being said, on with the story.

* * *

The night was eerily silent, the sky an inky, dark black. A surplus of clouds blocked out the moonlight, keeping any stars that might shine at bay. The ocean was a glassy calm that Jack found more than unsettling. In fact, he almost prayed for a storm, some sort of discourse that would keep him occupied enough to divert his troubling thoughts.

He sat leaned back in his desk chair. One hand lay rested upon one of the chair's arms, his fingers lightly drumming the wood with an impatience that would drive his Lizzie crazy. The other hand was cradling his jaw, coming up to cover his mouth. Every now and then his light, quiet breathing would take in a deeper, more restless breath. It was nights like this that he hated most… nights when the rest of the world seemed to be asleep, and he was left alone with his worries.

About every five minutes or so, he would look up from his trained spot on the desk's smooth surface. He would look to the melting candle, which was sure to extinguish within the hour. Those dark eyes would then flit over to rest on his sleeping Elizabeth, so calm and peaceful in her slumber that it made him ache. She had no idea what was coming. That wasn't to say that he had a definite idea of the unforetold future. But it would be bad. That much he knew.

She had so much faith in him. She had every confidence that he would come up with a way to escape his dreaded fate, or at the very least, they would derive one together. While Jack had more than enough doubts to keep him awake most nights, his overwhelming lack of success in Tortuga was the final nail in his coffin of uncertainties.

His options were very quickly running out. He had just two more days to rack up more souls, which he full-well knew wouldn't happen. He knew it wouldn't happen the moment Jones had assigned him the daunting task. At the very least, however, it had bought him more time with Elizabeth, and had given her hope when there was none.

All the while, his thoughts kept returning to Tia's unnerving, if not puzzling, words of prophecy. _Death is a choice. _He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Tia had always been a frustrating individual, never one for just coming out and saying it the way it was. Whenever he went to her with a problem or a question, she always answered him in riddles. He half-chuckled, wondering why he even bothered. He'd be better off with a random guess pulled from the deepest depths of his imagination. _Death is a choice._

"What the bloody hell does that mean…" he muttered, just barely above a whisper. His head snapped up when he heard the bunk sheets ruffle and saw Elizabeth turn in her sleep. She let out a deep exhale before her breathing steadied. Confident that she was still deep in slumber, Jack again began to ponder Tia's ominous words.

_Death is a choice,_ he thought. _A fairly poor choice, indeed. _He once again sat back, his thoughts drifting to all the choices he had made in his life, most of them bad ones. Selling his soul to save the Pearl? Bad choice. Picking Barbossa for a first mate? Bad choice. Pursing Elizabeth when he knew it could one day lead to a noose? Suddenly he felt uncomfortably warm. A pit dropped in his stomach and his throat felt tight.

Pursuing Elizabeth was undoubtedly the best decision he had ever made in his entire life. He again glanced up to where she was sleeping, peacefully unaware of the turmoil that was swirling through her fiancée's mind, and anger began to seep through him. Not at the envious rest she was able to achieve, but at the precarious situation he had put her in. He knew (and knew that she knew), that their life would not be an easy one. There would be more than their fair share of danger. But this was unacceptable. He hated himself for doing this to her.

_Death is a choice. _He sighed. Was it a certain prophecy? Or an avoidable one? Maybe it was a warning. Perhaps it was neither. He let out another deep sigh. He was more than frustrated now, and with a huff he stood up and marched across the room towards the window and his bookshelves. He was determined now more than ever to alleviate his mind from his thoughts, his eyes scanning the shelves when they came to rest on a hand-carved wooden chest.

The tightness in his throat came to reside in his chest, his hands trailing along the locked lid. Without giving it much thought, his fingers came to the smallest key on his belt. He carefully grasped the others in his fist, so as to not make noise and wake Lizzie. He swiftly unlocked the lid and lifted it, his hands grabbing onto the thick stack of folded letters that were housed within. He began to shuffle through them, carefully selecting one. The cabin's light growing ever-dimmer, he unfolded it.

_I am glad to hear you are so happy at having your ship. I knew you would be, but to hear you speak of it makes it all the more satisfying. In your letter, you spoke of her being in Barbossa's possession, which must have been tremendously difficult for you. However, the Black Pearl has never had a finer captain than the one whose eyes are reading this letter. I know you must think you are lucky to have her, but I think it is quite the opposite. It is the Pearl who is lucky to have you._

He smiled, and not only at her elegant penmanship scrawled across the parchment he clutched in his hands. She had no idea that he'd kept each and every one of her letters—the letters that would eventually bring them together, the ones that helped to bond him to her more than he'd ever been with another living soul. Each one had been carefully read, more than once, and vigilantly stored in the safety of his cabin.

He knew long before she ever wrote the first letter that she had worked her way into his heart, not to ever be removed from it ever again. And quite frankly, he didn't want it that way. He never wanted to go back to his life the way it was before her. She was everything. She was security. She was the ability to be entirely at ease, completely himself without the guise of _Captain Jack Sparrow. _With her, he was just Jack, and completely happy. She was life.

He carefully folded the letter and tucked it behind the others, reaching for another. Just as carefully, he unfolded the next, his eyes scanning her words, practically able to recall each one as perfectly as the first time he'd read them.

_Worry not, you silly pirate. The briefness of your last letter upsets me not at all. I am still pleased to receive anything from you, however long it may be._

He again smiled. That was the first time he fully dared to hope that she might feel for him the way he felt for her. Even from the very first moment, he had seen something of himself reflected in her. She was a pirate, truly, but her heart was bigger and fuller than any other pirate to ever live, and he loved her for it.

_I understand completely if my poor actions are cause for you to cease contact with me, though I hope with an anxious heart that this is not the case. Your friendship means so much to me, Jack, and I don't know what I would do without it. I do recognize, however, that the loss of it would be my fault, and in such an event I take full responsibility for my actions. _

He almost laughed reading the words that had been written what seemed like so long ago. As if there was anything she could possibly do to alienate him from her. There were far many things that he himself had done that warranted her never-ending hatred, yet she stuck by him, as loyally and faithfully as he could ever hope for.

He remembered that had been one of the last letters she's written him, aside from a brief one begging him to come for her when her untimely wedding had been rapidly approaching. She finally agreed to sail away with him and the rest… he sighed. The rest was history. They were supposed to go on, ravaging the seas and taking that they wanted for their own. They were supposed to be the two most notorious pirate names the history books would ever know. But now, it looked like death was rapidly approaching them both.

_Death… is a choice._ Suddenly, with her letters clutched in his hands, it hit him. He felt unsteady as his heart sank in his chest and he thought that a part of him might be dying right then and there. _Death is a choice. _He knew what he had to do.

Ever so carefully, as if it would be the last time he ever see them, he placed the letters back in their chest and locked them up tight. He swiftly, yet quietly, made his way back to his desk. The candle was about to go out and so, he lit a new one, snuffing out the old one with a lick on his fingers. He pulled a clean sheet of parchment from the top drawer of his desk, his hand reaching for the quill and ink across from him.

Slowly and surely, he began to write.

_My Dearest Lizzie…_

* * *

Jack lightly blew on the still-wet ink as he quietly and cautiously shut the cabin door behind him. The Caribbean's night air was cool and refreshing, kissing his skin with comfort as another bead of sweat trickled down his back. The letter he'd just penned had undoubtedly been the most difficult thing he'd ever written, but it was more than necessary. He had to do it, and not only that, he'd do it again if he had to.

He had made it halfway across the deck when his eyes, half-clouded in the din of the night, spotted the individual he'd been looking for.

"Ah, William," he said, again turning on his trademark personality. There was no need for the young blacksmith to know what was going on in his head… not all of it, anyways. "You're so very much the person I was looking for."

"Evening, Jack," Will replied with a sigh, leaning forward against the rail and looking out at the sea ahead. "I take it you want something, then?"

"Want something?" Jack retorted, feigning offense. "Since when can I not simply partake in the pleasure of your company?" Will said nothing, but turned to him, his eyebrow arched. Jack rolled his eyes. "Fair enough. I need to have a word with you… an important word… and not here."

"Where, then?" Will asked, seeming utterly disinterested.

"Follow me," Jack instructed, brushing past him and heading towards the mast. He heard Will let out another heavy sigh when Jack started to climb.

"We're going to the crow's nest?" Will asked.

"Yes, well, I have it on good authority that the poor wretch who's supposed to be up there is, in fact, passed out below decks. S'what I bloody get for lettin' my men have a good time in Tortuga. An' besides, it's the only place we can go where we won't be overheard, savvy?"

"Not hardly," Will replied, grunting with the effort as he began to follow Jack up the rigging. After a silent and almost painfully awkward climb, Jack made it over the edge into the crow's nest, offering Will a hand. The younger man ignored it, his pride and need to prove himself preventing him from accepting it. "Now what's so important that you found the need to drag me up here in the middle of the night?"

"So hostile," Jack said, clicking his tongue. "What's it to you? You were up anyways and, by my watch, not doing anything."

"Jack, I doubt you brought me here to bicker. What?"

Jack sighed, still more than uneasy, but forced it out anyways. "How much do you know about Davy Jones?"

"I know of your predicament. That's all."

"Do you know of his heart?" Jack continued.

"That it's buried on an island of unknown whereabouts? I've been informed." Will's brow furrowed, his interest suddenly piqued. "What are you getting at, Jack?"

"What do you know about his crew?" Jack asked, lowering his voice, even though he didn't need to.

Will shrugged. "Not much."

"Well," Jack smirked. "Allow me to inform you. They're press-ganged, the lot of them, into a hundred years of servitude." Will grimaced and Jack continued on. "Each."

"Desperate men with death as their only alternative," he concluded.

"Aye. Or, in specific, an eternity under the crushing pressure of the deepest of the oceans depths." Jack watched as Will's eyes narrowed. His lips parted, but he did not speak. Jack knew he was starting to formulate what he was getting at, but was so astounded that he could not form the words. "That's right, young Master Turner. Your father is one of those men."

"My father…" Will said, his voice low and quiet.

"Yes," Jack confirmed. "Bonny Bootstrap Bill was plucked by Jones from the ocean's floor with nowhere else to go, no other options."

"Are you certain?" Will asked, still half in disbelief, half in awe of what he'd just been told.

"Entirely. Came to remind me of my debt."

"I…" Will was nearly speechless. "We… I have to save him."

"Precisely what I'm getting at. I knew you'd catch on, always were a bright lad."

"Jack."

"Yes, right," Jack said, quickly unhooking his compass from his belt. He pressed it into Will's hands. "My compass is unique. Not only will it provide you with the tools you need to set free your father, but will provide me with the tools to kill Jones, once and for all."

"I don't understand," Will said quietly, his eyes averted and focused on the compass.

"This compass," Jack said, grabbing Will's wrist and raising the compass upwards, flipping open the lid as he went. "Will point to whatever you want most in this world. And right about now, I'm thinking what you want most in this world is to free your father from his most unfortunate debt."

Will's eyes flashed upwards. "If your compass is so powerful, how come you're yet to use it to satisfy your own needs?"

Jack groaned slightly and looked out at the vast expanse of ocean surrounding them. "I tried," he muttered. "Didn't work."

"Why should I believe it will show me what I want most if it can't do the same for you?"

"Didn't say it didn't show me what I wanted most," Jack shrugged. "It did, quite successfully. Every time I bloody open it."

Will was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Elizabeth."

"Yes. Elizabeth."

"Now," Jack said, quickly changing the subject. "I have it on good authority, and through my superb talents towards observation that you and the lovely Miss Avery are growing closer. If we don't act now, it might not work." Will scowled, as if offended that Jack had pried into his personal life. "Both you and me have a need to find Jones' heart and quickly. I've only two days left and while your father has a near-eternity, I surmise that one more day in captivity is one too many."

Will said nothing, but stared at Jack for several long moments before allowing his eyes to drift downwards to the compass. Jack watched as his fingers gripped the edge, watching ever-still as the needle spun and spun before settle on a definite direction.

Jack let out a sigh, more than pleased.

"I take it this means something to you," Will said.

"Aye, it does. Gives us a bearing to Isla Cruces, lest I be mistaken. I should've known that's where he'd hide it."

"Oh?"

"Aye. It's more than remote and when the tide comes in, it's halfway underwater. Less than ideal for treasure hunting, eh?"

"Indeed," Will agreed. "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for telling me. I truly appreciate your honesty."

Jack suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He waved his hand at Will. "S'no trouble."

"Maybe not. But that being said, I feel I owe you the same honesty," Will said. "When we reach… Isla Cruces, is it…? I'll pursue the heart on my own. I can't expect you to use it for my father when your life is on the line. But you'll understand that his life is more important to me than—"

Jack smirked. "I told you once, William," he started, "you're a pirate, whether you care to admit it or not. I wouldn't expect any less. But now we know where we're headed. The rest can be arranged when we get there."

"Yes," Will nodded, and another few moments of silence passed between the two men. Will was about to head back over the crow's nest and down the rigging when Jack stopped him.

"That's not all," Jack said.

"Oh?"

"Oh. As much as I wish to do otherwise, I must ask for your trust, if only this once," Jack said. Carefully, as if harboring the most precious of treasures, Jack pulled his recently penned letter from out of his coat. He stared at it, gritting his teeth with uneasiness, and thumbing over the name he had carefully scrawled on the outside flap. _Lizzie._

"What's that?" Will asked.

"S'a letter," Jack finally admitted. "In the event that things don't go my way, which I know they likely won't, I've written this for Elizabeth. All I ask is that you save this and give it to her, should something happen to me." Jack extended his hand, another part of his heart breaking as he watched Will take it. He was, however, relieved when the younger man offered no words of comfort, no false hope.

"I'll give it to her," Will said, watching as Jack watched _him_ tuck it away. "And I promise… she'll walk away from this, even if you don't."

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Jack's mouth. "That's all I ask." He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the two words that he rarely spoke, and when he did, rarely meant. "Thank you."

Will simply nodded, and disappeared down into the rigging.

* * *

**A/N: **That's it! Hopefully there will be more soon—it's summer vacation now, so there will be more time to write!

There are two new links posted at the top of my profile, one for a banner for "Capsized" and one for a trailer for "It Only Takes a Moment," both by KimOfDrac, who is awesome!

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!


	46. Solace

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**46—Solace**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Sorry again for the ridiculous delay between updates. It's quite difficult to come up with more chapters for this story while maintaining a certain level of originality.

I would also like to extend a super-huge thanks to sweetness328 for acting as a soundboard and allowing me to vent my writer's block frustrations! Without her help, this story would likely remain stalled.

On we go, and thanks for your patience!

* * *

Jack's conversation with Will had left him feeling far more anxious than he would have liked. It seemed that the lad hadn't disagreed with him on how he thought things would turn out, and he supposed that that was what bothered him so. He had grown so used to Elizabeth's constant strength and reassurance that he felt quite taken aback by the realism of their discussion. It left his shoulders feeling heavy and gave him a sensation in his chest that seemed akin to a large weight being placed over his heart. Suddenly the phrase "weight of the world" took on a whole new meaning.

As he forced himself out of the crow's nest (he would have remained up high on his perch forever if he could), he found it both amusing and terrifying how much he'd changed in recent months. He used to think himself a hardened pirate—and damn proud of it. But since this incredible vixen with silky golden tresses and the most remarkable spirit had come into his life, he'd found himself unexpectedly concerned with "emotions" and "feelings."

"Funny little world," he muttered to himself, a slight, placid grin tugging on the corners of his mouth as he set foot on deck.

The ship was sleepy and quiet, just the way he liked it. He loved the feeling he got when it felt as though he and his Pearl were the only two on the planet. Now a lady, not of wood and sails but of flesh and blood, was the most important thing in his life. _My how things have changed, _he thought to himself, making his way towards the cabin that for so many years had been occupied by him and him alone. He never pretended that he'd had his fair share of steamy encounters with the opposite sex… but Elizabeth was the only one he'd felt safe enough to share his space with.

When he reached the heavy cabin door, he flexed his hand, placing his open palm flat against the weathered wood. He felt something go through him, like in a way he was offering the Pearl his deepest apologizes and a solemn goodbye. After a deep breath and a light clearing of the throat, the moment had passed, and he pushed his way inside.

The space was dark, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight that peaked through the rich, heavy curtains covering the window. No amount of light was necessary however, as he knew his way around better than he knew the back of his hand. He quietly made his way towards the bunk, disrobing as he went. When he was relieved of all but his breeches, he oh-so-carefully peeled back the sheets and slid into bed.

He thought he had made it in free and clear as he settled down against his until-recently vacant pillow, when he felt the warm, svelte body slightly move beside him. Without saying a word, she slowly rolled towards him, wrapping one leg over both of his and resting against his chest. He instinctually put an arm around her slender frame, gently pulling her just a little closer.

"What took you so long?" she asked, her voice heavy and tired, her eyes still shut.

"Just making sure everyone was settled," he lied, silently cursing himself for doing so. Lying was something that used to come so easily to him and it almost sickened him that it still did. If anything, he wanted to always be honest with her, but felt now was not the time to trouble her unnecessarily. Things were still so uncertain.

"James?"

"Aye. And Will."

"Oh." She breathed in deep and affectionately scratched his bare chest with her fingernails. "You didn't think I would notice you were gone?"

"Not as stealthy as I thought," he replied, forcing out an obviously fake chuckle and he winced at his own folly. He used to be smoother. To his great relief, she didn't mention it, and a part of him knew she knew he didn't want her to.

"No," she whispered, yawning. "You're losing your touch, Captain Sparrow."

"Apparently," he whispered back.

"Jack?"

"Mmm?"

"If something was bothering you… you'd tell me… right?"

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before entwining his fingers in her hair. "Yes," he assured her.

"Alright," she sighed, squeezing him softly. "It's late."

"Yes."

"Sleep for me," she quietly commanded, waiting patiently and feigning her own sleep until she felt his muscles relax. It was a while longer still until she heard his breathing steady, and she knew he was asleep. Only when she knew for sure that his mind was peaceful in its most unconscious state that she felt she could relax again. She hadn't wanted to create the tension she knew would arise from forcing him to discuss his worries with her. All she could do was trust that if he truly felt it was worth sharing, he would have.

She gently pressed the side of her head against his chest, her ear searching for the soothing sound of his steady heartbeat. It only took a few moments before her eyes slid shut, and the comforting din lulled her back to sleep.

* * *

Rosalind rolled over in bed, her back pinched and the air heavy and humid in her small, makeshift cabin. So much had happened, she found it more than difficult to quiet her thoughts and sleep. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she knew everything would be alright, but that wasn't enough to stop her from worrying, something she considered one of her most annoying habits. Even as a child, Elizabeth had teased her that she'd worry herself into an early grave and they'd laugh. Her father would tell her that worrying denoted a large and caring heart.

Her father… she never imagined her parents would disappear from her life the way they had. She shook her head as she sat up, combing her thick, dark hair with her fingers. She preferred not to think of her parents. They way they assumed her "guilt by association" and abandoned her hurt too much.

She quickly dressed in some more decent attire before making her way out of the cabin, located in the heart of the Black Pearl's hull. It had been a large storage cabinet of some kind before she'd found Elizabeth on that wretched island of cannibals deep in the Caribbean. Jack had had his crew fashion a bunk out of the shelves built into the wall. It was cramped and hardly comfortable, but she was grateful for her privacy and still preferred it to the prison cell she'd occupied on Port Royale.

The cool night air was a welcome relief against her warm forehead as she stepped out onto the deck. She gazed up at the beautiful night sky, full of stars that she rarely saw in England. So often there were clouds and fog obstructing her vision. She looked over her shoulder and saw Will at the wheel. A faint smile crossed her lips and she made her way towards him.

"Good evening," he greeted, barely taking his eyes off the sea in front of him, steering the ship on through the inky black water.

"Good evening. And a lovely evening it is," she added.

"A mature one at that," he said with a smile. "What's the matter? Couldn't sleep?"

"No," she admitted, standing beside him with her arms behind her back, looking out at the vast emptiness ahead of them. It was both exhilarating and mildly terrifying at the same time. She could see the appeal that had hooked Elizabeth to this life and wondered if she would ever vie for it the way her friend did. "What about you? Jack entrusted you with the ship?"

"Not exactly," he said, a wry smile creeping onto his face. "I took over the shift. Nothing clears the mind quite like this."

"Oh?" she asked, arching her eyebrows. "Is your mind troubled, Mr. Turner?"

Will chuckled. "You don't have to feign such propriety… you know that."

Rosalind felt her cheeks flush and hoped it wasn't obvious under the darkness of the night. "Of course," she said quietly. A few moments passed before she found the courage to speak again. "You didn't answer my question."

Will sighed. "I had a conversation with Jack."

"I can tell it's weighing heavily on you."

For the first time, Will's dark eyes found hers and she had to fight not to look away from him. He was undoubtedly the most handsome man she'd spent time with and the way he made her insides feel like mush was a completely new feeling to her. She was raised in a world in which blacksmiths were mere servants to the wealthy and a young woman was not permitted to spend time with a man unchaperoned. But he was so incredibly real and good and sweet. She knew she would never be able to pay him back for the kindness he showed her in Port Royale and the fact that he didn't want her to was all the more touching.

"It's my father," he finally admitted. "He's alive. Or rather, as alive as he can be."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her brows furrowing together.

"He's in the captivity of Davy Jones, imprisoned in his crew."

"Dear God," she said, placing her hand against her chest. The seriousness of the matter left her feeling tumultuous and she wanted—needed—to help. "If there's anything I can do—"

"Nothing can be done," Will said, his sadness evident in his eyes and on his face. "Not until we find the heart."

Rosalind nodded, then it hit her. "You and Jack are both after the heart."

"Yes. We've agreed to help each other find it, but once it's been found—"

"All bets are off." Rosalind let out a deep breath and again gazed up at the stars, finding a certain amount of comfort in their limitless beauty. "Things are going to get dangerous, aren't they?"

"Yes," he admitted.

She sighed. "I have a confession to make," she said, her voice quiet and feeling far away.

"By all means," Will replied, his voice warm and inviting, just the way she need it to be.

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for this," she told him. She brought her hands out in front of her, fidgeting with the cuticle on her right thumb. Her head hung down and she stared at the floor beneath her feet. She couldn't meet his eyes again.

"You're new at it, that's all," Will assured her. "Besides… I think you're better than you give yourself credit for."

"You do?" she asked, her voice timid and soft. She hated it when it sounded like that.

"You're here, aren't you? You made it to Elizabeth on your own…" he paused, looking away from her. "And you did it for me. I'll always be grateful."

"It was the least I could do," she replied, forcing herself to look at him despite the fluttering that occurred in the pit of her belly. "After all you did for me…"

"I couldn't have very well let you live on the streets, could I?" He smiled at her and noticed a trace of pain and sadness behind her dark eyes. "Your parents don't know what they're missing out on. Their daughter is brave and resourceful, incredibly intelligent…" He took a deep breath and swallowed, completely unable to believe he was about to do what he was about to do. He'd never been this forward before and since his bid for Elizabeth's heart had failed so miserable, never thought he ever would have the courage to try. But for Rosalind, he felt it would be worth it. "And beautiful."

Rosalind suddenly felt warm inside, her heart beating just a little bit faster. "Beautiful?"

"Forgive me…" Will said quickly, instantly regretting his decision to make a go for it. "That was incredibly—"

"Sweet," she finished, smiling at him, feeling more and more relaxed with each passing moment. "Thank you. George would never have paid me such a compliment and truly meant it with _your _honesty."

"George?" Will couldn't help but ask, then immediately wished he hadn't.

"General George Falkirk," Rosalind said, rolling her eyes and making her disdain evident in the tone of her voice. "My… intended? He was certainly considered a respectable match."

"Fiancé?" Will asked, again wishing he'd held his tongue. What was coming over him?

"No, heavens no… my parents weren't going to force me… at least I don't think they would have. But then again…" she fell silent. "It wouldn't be the first time I misjudged their characters."

"I'm sorry they did what they did," Will said, his voice again soft and gentle. It brought her the kind of comfort she had so been craving. "They should never have abandoned you the way they did."

"No," she said quietly, fighting the urge to cry.

Will, sensing her overwhelming discomfort, held out his hand. "Here," he said. "Would you like to give it a try?"

"What?" she asked, her head snapping up. Will motioned his head towards the wheel. "Oh… oh no, I couldn't…"

"You could," he said with a smile. He reached over and took her hand before she could pull away. "It's easy. I'll teach you." Carefully, treating her as if she was the most delicate porcelain, he guided her hands to the pegs of the wheel. "That's it," he said, when she took a firm grip. He stood behind her, placing his hands over hers. "Just keep a firm grip. You're in charge of the wheel, not the other way around."

"I'm doing it… I'm steering the ship!" she exclaimed, her voice reflective of a child on Christmas morning. "You're right… it is easy!"

"I told you," he laughed.

"Oh… what a feeling," she sighed, and he could feel the tense muscles in her back relax against him. "It certainly does have a way of calming the nerves."

"It certainly does," he agreed.

Together they stood there silently, steering the ship onward. After several moments, both realized that his hands were still firmly holding hers, and neither wanted the other to let go. With a boldness that took a ridiculous amount of control to muster, she leaned into him, slowly turning her head and angling her face towards his. Once their eyes met, she prayed he wouldn't pull away.

She was too nervous to feel either elated or scared as he understood her motives, bending his head down to meet hers. Yet when their lips met, a feeling passed through them both that neither had felt before. There was no more reason to be scared, nothing left to worry about. When they were kissing, it was as if the world was standing still just for them, and everything was at peace.

* * *

**A/N: **So that's it for this chapter! Sorry for the Will/Rosalind heavy chapter, but it needed to get written. I've already got a good chunk of the next chapter written, so expect to see that in the next couple of weeks. No more major delays, I promise! It's time to get this story finished.

Thanks so much for reading, now go review! See you at chapter 47!


	47. Haunted

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**47—Haunted**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **I didn't read up on the legend of Davy Jones, I chose to come up with something on my own, so I know it might not be "accurate."

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! I truly appreciate it.

* * *

_It was nearly sunset… almost time. After ten, long, arduous years however, "almost" wasn't quite good enough. The captain had done his job and he'd done it well, and now it was time for his reward. He smiled to himself, clutching gently at the locket she'd given him when they were last together, the sweet, familiar tune ruminating through his head._

_Oh, how he could hardly wait to see her! The duty she'd charged him with had never been an easy one, but since it was she who asked him to do it, he'd done so gladly. He stood now at the railing of his mighty ship, his calloused hands resting gingerly atop the weathered wood. He let his eyes flutter shut and could see her face smiling back at her. _

"_Almost," he murmured quietly, "almost."_

_Despite the fact that they'd been apart for a decade, everything about her was still so fresh and vivid in his mind. It would take millions upon millions of decades before he could forget those details… the way she spoke, the brown sugar of her skin, the curve of her hips… the way she always smelled of the sea._

_It was no mystery that he had fallen so hard for her. He was raised an only child, the son of sailor and a mother who adored him. His father spent more time at sea than he did at home, but the letters he would send to his mother were always filled with the most wonderful adorations and sweet-nothings. And when he was home... even now, as a grown man, he never forgot the way his parents loved each other. After his mother died on the eve of his 16__th__ year, his father was never the same. He himself passed away less than two years later, of what the young David knew was a broken heart._

_Thinking of his parents was a bittersweet mix of emotions. He missed not having them in his life, but remembering how they lived and loved was of great comfort. And now it was his turn. In just a few more minutes, that brilliant flash of green would fill the sky. He would return to her, they would be together, and all would be right with the world._

* * *

"_Should I send him in, Capt'n?" _

_Jones didn't bother looking up from the locket as it sat open atop the keys of his organ. It still played the same haunting tune, reminding of her even when he wanted to forget. How naive he'd been to imagine that they'd get to live happily ever after. How foolish he'd been… standing there, just waiting, even as the sun's rays first began to appear on the horizon. "Any minute now," he kept saying. "She's just late, that's all. She'll be here."_

"_Damn fool," he muttered, his voice now unrecognizable, even to him. Everything about him was different now. His appearance, his voice, even his ship… and it was her fault. He hated her. He hated her so much for doing this to him, for shattering his heart when it was at its most vulnerable, for betraying him like he meant nothing._

"_Capt'n?" The voice of his bo'sun snapped him from his heated reverie. _

"_Aye," Jones grumbled. "Send him in." He stood up with such force that it sent the organ seat out from underneath him, slamming against the floor. He simply stepped over it, not bothering to set it upright. He strode across the room, his heavy wooden leg thumping ominously against the floor. _

_He stopped in front of a large wooden mirror, his face marred by the dusty film coating it. He did not recognize the man he saw. Tentacles grew in place of the beard that once covered his face. He looked like a grotesque creature of the deep as opposed to a man. He had half a mind to slam the monstrous claw that had taken the place of his arm into the glass and shatter that horrifying reflection forever when he heard the cabin door creak open and hesitant footsteps made their way into the room._

_Jones cautiously stepped to the side, hiding behind a tattered velvet curtain and watching as the young man peered around the room. _

"_Capt'n Jones? Anyone here?" he called, his voice soft and unsure. The ship creaked and his locket persistently droned on, but other than that the cabin was dreadfully silent. Jones continued to watch him with narrowed eyes as he rocked on his feet before proceeding to explore the cabin. He felt his face flush hot with anger as the younger sailor began to open cabinets, peer at the bookshelves. _

_His short temper went from a simmer to a boil when his visitor brazenly turned his attention towards the source of the lingering music. When his fingers were mere inches from surreptitiously pocketing the piece when Jones threw back the currently and stomped across the room towards him. A gold-flecked smile instantly flashed across the face of the younger man and he quickly took a step back, acting as though nothing had happened at all. _

"_Ahh," he said casually. "There you are."_

"_Do. Not. Touch. That," Jones spat, hurriedly grabbing the locket, clicking it shut, and tucking it away inside his jacket. "What is your business here?"_

"_Ye don't bother mincing words, do you?" his visitor asked, flashing him another arrogant grin._

"_I don't waste my time entertaining fools. What do you want?"_

"_Very well," the young man said, tearing his gaze from the mythical sea captain, a hard thing to do, given his appearance. "I'm in need to acquire a ship. A specific ship. And I understand you're the one to talk to about that."_

"_Some pirate you are, needin' my help just to obtain a blasted ship," Jones snorted, pushing past him and yanking the organ stool off the ground. He slammed it into place with such force that he was initially concerned he'd broken it. He showed no sign of distress, however. He proceeded to whirl around, standing in front of the instrument and facing the younger man as if protecting his territory. _

"_This isn't just any ship, mate," he replied. The look on his face suggested confidence and poise, but the way his fingers apprehensively fidgeted with the edge of the tricorn hat he held in his hands suggested otherwise. _

"_And what makes this ship worth your time… or mine?" Jones asked, ignoring the salt water that sprayed from his mouth when he spoke. Just another sign of how she'd ruined him._

"_She's an exceptional thing of beauty… such superior craftsmanship was never seen before her and will never be seen after her. She's the fastest ship these waters have ever touched… and she has to be mine."_

"_Fine reasons but hardly reason enough. What else?" he asked._

_The younger man's face twitched. It was slight and hardly noticeable, but there all the same. "What makes ye think there's always something else?"_

"_There always be somethin' else. Out with it."_

_The visitor sighed and looked away. Without returning his eyes to his benefactor's face, he took a deep breath and continued. "She sank. Nearly four years ago not far from Tortuga." He finally returned his eyes to Jones, who stared at him expectantly; a half-smirk coiled onto his other-worldly face. The younger man sighed again, knowing there was more to tell and that Jones wanted to hear it. "And she was my mother's," he added, again looking away from the older captain._

"_Ahhh," Jones mocked, clicking his tongue. "It's always a woman." A sadistic gurgling formulated in the back of his throat as he stepped so close to his visitor that he could practically count his eyelashes. He made sure his voice was at a portentous whisper before speaking. "Why go to the trouble? She. Did. Not. Love. You. No woman is ever capable."_

_Suddenly the young man's head snapped up. His nostrils flared and a fire burned deep in his eyes. Jones was amused by this, convinced he would hit him or pull out his pistol or something. But he didn't. Instead he spoke in a tone that would have frightened any other man… but Jones wasn't any other man._

"_You keep your mouth shut," he said, his voice a true reflection of how angry he'd become. "You didn't know my mother. Don't you __**ever **__speak of her that way again."_

_Suddenly something inside Jones clicked and he knew exactly who he was dealing with. "I knew your mother. Knew _of _her. You're Isabel Morrego's son." The younger man's face relaxed as he regained some of his composure. "What's yer name, lad?"_

"_Jack," he said slowly, taking another deep breath. "Jack Sparrow."_

"_Well," Jones replied with a leering grin. "What's in it for me… Jack Sparrow?"_

_Jack breathed in through his nostrils, a look of complacent contempt on his face. "Me."_

_Jones paused. "Hardly a fitting price for such a prized possession."_

"_It's no secret how you do things," Jack replied, smirking. "You allow me the Black Pearl for fifteen years and you get me… for an eternity of servitude."_

_Jones stared at the young Captain, pondering what such a proposition would mean to him. To have the son of the late, famed Isabel Morrego… that captain wench who he himself had refused to ferry across to the other side as an indentured servant on his ship… it was too hard to pass up. _

_Finally, his decision made, he smiled a wicked smile. "Ten years."_

_Jack frowned. "Fourteen."_

"_Thirteen."_

_Jack's frown turned to a smile. "Deal! Yer a diamond." He stuck out his hand, waiting for Jones to shake it. Instead, Jones offered a lazy chuckle that, truth be told, frightened Jack right down to his boots. Then he grabbed his hand, engulfing his long, elegant fingers in a slimy mass of tentacles. He watched with delight as Jack grimaced, finally pulling his hand free and staring at it with disgust before casually wiping it on his breeches._

_Jones smiled and turned around, sitting on the organ seat and beginning to play the song that he loathed and loved all at once. "Your beloved ship is where your infernal mother lost her. I trust you're capable to find it on your own."_

_Jack stood still, his jaw and fists clenched as his blood began to boil once more. He forced himself to maintain his composure, however, too afraid that Jones would change his mind should he retaliate. Instead he said nothing. He placed his hat on his head and turned towards the door. His hand was hovering just above the knob when Jones spoke again. _

"_Thirteen years." He smiled to himself when he heard the door slam._

* * *

Davy Jones sat at his organ, where he could almost always be found. He hadn't a need for food or sleep… least of all, he hadn't any need for the pleasures of the flesh. He would rather see every woman on the face of God's earth fry than ever trust or love one again. Women, every last one, were toxic.

He did, however, have a desire to play his most favored instrument. At least when he was doing so he was somewhere else, was someone else. There were times when he delighted in what he did, like sucking poor helpless souls aboard his ship for a hundred years of servitude was his happy calling. There were other times when he loathed what he was, what Calypso had turned him into so much he wondered why he went through the trouble of existing.

Now was one of those times when he was mostly indifferent to either. What he was, however, was uneasy. He'd let that snake Jack Sparrow manipulate him and it was driving him mad. He thought he had given him an impossible task, but knowing Jack… no, he didn't trust him to fail.

Quite frankly, he didn't trust Jack at all. He never had, not since the moment he'd first laid eyes on him and saw him trying to swipe his locket. And why should he get to call the shots? They'd had a deal after all, fair and square.

He hated himself, not for the first time, for being so foolish. All he'd done was buy Jack time to best him. His empty chest felt tight, a feeling he detested. This would not do. This would not do at all.

"Bo'sun!" he screamed, standing up from his seat. Like the day of his first meeting with the younger captain, the organ bench flew out from behind him. This time it did break, one of its legs snapping off and sliding underneath the instrument. He hardly noticed. He paced back and forth, breathing heavily in and out of his nostrils like an angry, caged animal.

Only a few moments passed before the cabin door swung open and his bo'sun stood before him.

"How far are we from Isla Cruces?" Jones demanded, still pacing with great unrest.

"Captain—?"

"Isla Cruces! HOW FAR?" he screamed.

"An hour, Captain. Maybe more," the bo'sun said, his voice on the verge of cracking. Jones, more furious with himself than anyone else, stormed forward. He grabbed his bo'sun by the shoulders with such force, he felt him tremble, only slightly.

"Trust that 'maybe more' will cost you your head!" Jones shouted, spit flying as he spoke.

"Aye, Captain…" the bo'sun said shakily, quickly disappearing from Jones' sight.

Jones waited for several more moments before taking a deep breath. He gradually stood upright and pulled the locket out from his jacket. Very slowly, he flipped the lid, listening aimlessly as it played that familiar, haunting song.

* * *

Jack came out of his sleep induced haze with a headache. If there was anything he despised dreaming of, it was Davy Jones, and unfortunately it was an all-too-common occurrence these days.

He rolled onto his back and blindly reached for his companion. He frowned and forced his eyes open when he found a cold, vacant space. He was about to groan like a displeased five year old when he heard a very soft splashing noise from the depths of the cabin. A wry grin crept onto his lips. Suddenly, he knew exactly where his Lizzie was and what she was doing and the thought was more than appealing.

He rolled back onto his side so he was facing the rest of the cabin. Propping himself up on his elbow, he waited patiently with a feral grin on his face for her to appear. Five minutes had yet to pass when he heard her footsteps approaching. Her firm body was glistening, almost sparkling, in the morning light that danced through the cracks in the curtains.

"What a pleasant sight to awaken to," he said coyly, grinning in delight when she jumped, startled to see him watching her. He clicked his tongue playfully. "My, my, how I love a naked Lizzie in the morning."

Elizabeth loved moments like this. She loved knowing that the mere sight of her would have such an effect on him and she loved using it to her advantage. She smiled back, allowing the sheet she had pulled out to dry herself hang loosely from her hips, keeping her upper half exposed.

"I aim to please," she said smoothly, winking at him.

"Elizabeth, my love, you _always _please. Did you enjoy your sponge bath?"

She shrugged. "It's not as enjoyable as a real bath, but it will suffice until we make port next. Besides, I needed to wash my hair. I was beginning to smell like you."

"Ouch," Jack said, flailing onto his back and feigning a gunshot wound to the chest. "Watch it, darlin', I'm fragile."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Yes, I know." The moment having passed. She hoisted the sheet up over her breasts, drying her chest as she went. "You were cross last night."

Jack sighed. "I know. M'sorry. I tried not to take it out on you."

"You didn't," she assured him. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't tell you were cross." A few moments passed as she continued to pat herself dry, running her fingers through her damp hair and using it as a comb. "So do you plan on telling me what's bothering you or do you plan on being solemn and grumpy forever?"

Jack sighed and sat up in bed, turning around and placing his feet on the floor. He would have to tell her sooner or later, lest she find out on her own the hard way. He patted the space beside him. "Come sit with me, Lizzie."

"I'm glad to see you've come to your senses," she said with a smile. She crossed the room towards him and bent her neck, gently kissing his lips before sitting beside him. She turned inwards and took one of his hands in both of hers. It didn't take a woman with exceptional observational talents to tell that he was frightened. It was more than enough to make her uneasy.

"Elizabeth, I need to tell you something," he said, instantly berating himself for being so pathetically obvious. "You won't like it."

"It wouldn't be the first time," she replied with a nervous laugh. "Just tell me, Jack."

He sighed again, almost mad at himself for putting her through this. "I'm not making it out of this." Instantly he felt her disposition change. Her hands went rigid and he could tell by her change in posture that everything about her was tense.

"No," she said, her voice flat and plain.

"Eliz—"

"No." She released his hand and stood up, walking away from him. Her voice was growing panicky, angry… frightened. "You don't get to do this."

He sighed and looked away from her, his eyes going back only when he was at his most daring. "You have a right to prepare yourself," he said quietly.

She spun around, little droplets of water flying from her hair as she did so. "How dare you!" she shouted. His eyes grew wide. He was about to encourage her to keep her voice down when she continued. "How dare you do this to me!"

"What?" Jack's face was a mixture of a pout and sheer frustration. "Darling, your pain and anguish will be much less if you have time to deal with this before—"

"How dare you…" her voice was low and angry now. "How dare you just give up like this."

"I'm not giving up," he protested, standing up. "I'm just trying to make this easier for _you_."

"Oh yes," she cried, tears forming in her eyes. "Informing me of your imminent death is certainly the way to make this nightmare easier." Both stood in silence for several moments before she found the courage to speak again. When she did, her voice cracked with the effort to control herself, and any attempt to suppress her emotions failed. "Jack… don't you want to stay with me?"

"More than anything," he said quietly, not trusting himself to look at her face, contorted with anguish and sadness. He was forced to look up, however, when she stalked across the room. She placed a hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her.

"If you let yourself remain convinced that Jones is going to win then he probably will. You will sabotage yourself into an early grave and as your almost-wife I refuse to let that happen." Her breath caught in her throat. "Jack—I'm begging you. Fight… if for nothing else, fight for me. Please promise… please promise me you won't give up."

He stood there, just watching her, mortified and angry with himself for causing the hurt beneath her teary eyes. An apology wouldn't make things better. Further arguing his point wouldn't make things better, either. As he stood there, looking at what he'd caused, he knew she was right. He had to keep going. He had to keep fighting, for her. He smiled and for the first time in a long time, it was a real smile, not just one he'd concocted to make her feel better.

"I promise," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her still wet body and kissing the top of her head. "It's not over 'til it's over."

"Damn straight," she sniffled, burying her head against his chest. "And don't you ever talk like that again or I'll be forced to slap you."

Jack let out a slight grunt. "Fair enough," he mumbled. "But I advise you not to get dressed. You'll be needin' another bath."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, grinning at him, knowing full-well where this was going. "I'm already clean."

"Ye won't be when I get through with you," he said, bending down and quickly grabbing her by the waist. He hoisted her off her feet and carried her sideways towards the bed, leaving her to shriek and giggle, and leaving the crew to roll their eyes as they went on with their business outside.

* * *

**A/N: **That's it for this chapter! Thanks for reading, now go review!

See you next time!


	48. Advice and Apologies

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

**48—Advice and Apologies**

**DISCLAIMER: **Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

**A/N: **Sorry for not getting this up sooner—I wanted to get it written and posted this weekend, but the new semester has started and I haven't had as much time as I originally thought.

Additionally, thanks to everyone who reviewed! It is, as always, greatly appreciated.

* * *

"That was…"

"I know," Jack replied, his eyes lazy slits, his tan skin still glistening with sweat.

"Really. I mean…"

"I know," he smirked. "We've outdone ourselves, Lizzie."

She laughed softly. "I didn't think that was possible." Her voice was low and throaty, heavy with satisfaction.

"Darling, I think if you'd learned anything since your time begun here, it was that things that seem impossible are, in fact, always entirely possible."

Elizabeth laughed again. She loved the way he talked. She was more than tempted to curl up against him and sleep until supper, but she knew she couldn't. Before the sheer sight of him was able to persuade her against her better judgment, she tossed the sheets aside and rolled out of bed.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked. Her back was to him, but she knew he had propped himself up, staring at her from across the room.

"One of us has to make an appearance on deck today," she answered, gathering her clothing from the various places they'd landed earlier that morning.

"On the contrary…" Elizabeth heard the floorboards creek slightly as he stepped out of bed, ducking the toned arms that tried to grab onto her. She heard him blow out a pouty sigh. "Now see here, Lizzie. I'm captain of this vessel and as such I make the rules. I decide who goes where and when, or more pertinently, where who stays."

"Uh-huh," she said, nodding slightly as she pulled her breeches up, fastening her belt tightly around them. "Well, as the captain's future bride-to-be, I feel that I'm immune to such rules. Moreover, if you persist in only paying attention to me and not your crew, you won't have the title of captain to hold on to, which hardly makes any of this worth it."

"Beg to differ," Jack muttered under his breath.

Catching a glimpse of the boyish sulk on his face, she grinned, pulling her blouse over her head. She let him stand there and mope as she continued to dress, carefully pulling on each boot before placing her hat atop her flowing locks and throwing her jacket on. When she was finished and noticed him still glowering at her, arms crossed, she put on a sultry grin and crossed the few feet to where he stood.

"Besides…" she said, lowering her voice to a tantalizing whisper, "you'll be wanting to save room for later." She lightly ran her fingernails down his bare chest to the thick, dark line of hair that ran towards his groin. Placing a slow, soft kiss on his cheek, she stepped around him and without another word, out the cabin door.

Outside, the sun was so bright in comparison to the cabin's dim lighting. She had the shield her face and blink several times before her eyes adjusted. It was nearly noon by the looks of things. Her honey colored eyes scanned the deck quickly, observing who was doing what and trying to determine where she was needed most. It only took a moment for her to spot Rosalind across the deck, sitting in the ship's only shaded spot and mending what appeared to be a pile of the crew's clothing.

"Someone's put you to work," Elizabeth said, smiling and kneeling besides her friend as she approached her.

"No," Rosalind said, practically beaming. "I offered. It's the least I can do while I'm here. I'm determined to prove that I am in fact useful and not some porcelain doll who can't tell the bow from the stern."

Elizabeth laughed. "What's put you in such a mood?"

"Well…" The ear-to-ear grin on her friend's face suggested made her glow. Elizabeth followed her line of sight as she looked up, across towards the main mast, where Will was beginning to ascend into the rigging.

"I see," she nodded. "Have you spoken to him yet? About, you know…"

"More than that," Rosalind replied, a coy smile tugging at her lips. She looked around before lowering her voice to a whisper. "He kissed me last night."

"What?" Elizabeth broke into a shrill giggle and jumped forward, hugging her friend with an enthusiasm that nearly toppled both of them over. "Oh, Ros, I'm so happy for you. Both of you."

"Thank you. Really, thank you. I would never have known him if it weren't for you."

"I did nothing," Elizabeth insisted. "So… what else happened last night?"

"Please, it's not as if we're married," Rosalind shrugged. "He kissed me then walked me to my cabin and said goodnight." She looked up to see Elizabeth's averted eyes and began wondering how to best insert her foot in her mouth. "Liz, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Elizabeth said, a small smile on her face. "Though it's not as if there have been others. He's the only one I've ever… and we _are _engaged." Rosalind nodded. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Always."

"Don't let propriety hold you back. Life's too short and we only have one chance to live it how we want to. If you want to _be _with Will and he wants to _be _with you, then do it."

"I'll consider it," Rosalind said truthfully, nodding. "So have you spoken to _him _yet?" she asked, nodding her head in James' direction.

Elizabeth looked over at him and instantly her feelings of guilt and remorse returned. He stood by one of the railings, swabbing the deck. He was still filthy and his hat and wig were crooked.

"Not yet," Elizabeth replied, looking down at her hands and picking at one of her cuticles. "I just don't know what to say to him. Sorry will never be good enough."

"Maybe not," Rosalind countered. "But it's a start. And you'll have to face him sooner or later." She paused. "You might as well do it now while you have a chance to be alone with him."

"You're right," Elizabeth said, suppressing a groan. She stood up and dusted off her hands. "Remember what I said about Will," she told her friend as she started to back away, "don't hold back because it's not proper. He could end up being the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Rosalind watched her as she made her way towards James before glancing up into the rigging towards Will. She sat there, just letting the weight of Elizabeth's advice sink in, praying against hope that she'd have the courage to adhere to it.

As Elizabeth approached James, she was almost thankful that his back was turned towards her. It seemed almost every time she had looked in his direction, he found some other distraction… it didn't matter what it was, he seemed to take it so long as it would prevent any kind of contact between the two of them. She really couldn't blame him for it, either. She would avoid herself too had she been betrayed by… herself. She inwardly smiled, musing on how she thought more and more like Jack the more time she spent with him.

"James," she said quietly, her heart sinking just a little bit when she saw him stiffen and bristle at the sound of her voice. He said nothing, only paused momentarily and continued his swabbing. "I was hoping I could have a few words with you."

"You'll understand," he said, speaking in low, ominous tones and breathing in deeply through his nostrils, "I've not been given pause by my… _captain_."

"He won't mind," she assured him. She kept her voice soft and sweet, as if afraid he would crumble at her words.

He turned around slowly, looking at her over his shoulder, and grinned. There was something cold and steely behind his eyes, a distant look that partially reminded her that the James she was knew was likely long gone. And she was the cause of it. She'd broken him and the guilt was almost consuming. It wasn't like she'd turned pirate and plundered his wealth. She'd broken his heart, shattered it, and that was a crime far worse than anything a simple scallywag could do.

"I take it, then," he continued, "that Captain Sparrow has entrusted you with some authority aboard his ship." He set his mop back in the bucket near his feet, letting the long, wooden handle rest against the ship's railing. "It makes sense, I suppose, since he's given you so many other things."

His innuendo made her cheeks flush. He was right to think the way he did—she and Jack had no secrets from each other, in every possible way. But there was so much he didn't know and would never know—and so much he assumed that simply wasn't true.

"That's not fair," she said, maintaining the unaccusatory tone in her voice.

"Is it not true?" he asked, turning so that he faced her better and leaning against the railing besides his broom. He leaned on his elbows and watched her intently, a lazy smile on his face. But the hurt that lurked beneath his eyes was more than telling. "You've slept with him, have you not?" He sighed, as if the weight of his words had yet to reach their full impact. "Been sleeping with him," he added quietly.

"I always remained faithful to you," she swore. "Jack and I only became involved after I left."

"I used to tell myself that," he said, his eyes drifting away from hers. "But I wish you thought more of me."

Her eyebrows knotted. "Beg pardon?"

"I'm not a fool, Elizabeth. Why else would you leave the way you did?"

"James, I—"

"You're telling me you fled your home, your life, because he was nothing more than a friend?"

"Yes." He looked at her, seeming torn between wanting to believe her and being too heartbroken to ever believe her again. "Jack was my friend. And he always saw what you and my father failed to."

"And what's that, Elizabeth?"

"He saw me drowning." James' eyes hardened, but she couldn't tell exactly which emotion he was feeling… sadness, anger, shock… perhaps a mixture of all three. "He could see me suffocating in a world in which I didn't belong. All I did, all day, every day, was worry about living up to the expectations of others. I was losing myself… and he saved me."

"Yes, we all know what a hero he is."

"He is to me," she defended, feeling a tinge of anger towards his judgment. "He's a good man. I love him and I'm going to marry him." The long on his face as he snapped his head up to stare at her instantly made her regret her decision to tell him of her engagement. She didn't think it was possible to hurt him anymore than she already had, but she'd clearly been wrong.

"Why are you here, Elizabeth? What else could you possibly have to say to me?" he asked, his voice hard and bitter. He turned his back to her and stared out to sea.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, looking down at her tired hands. She half-wondered if she should bother continuing. She took a deep breath before looking back up at him. Yes… she needed to continue.

"I wanted to apologize," she professed, "for running."

"Which time?" Again, she fell silent. She hadn't been expecting that, however true it was. She ran from him once and broke his heart. She ran from him a second time and cost him his life, his livelihood… "Did you think that would make it better?" he asked, suddenly spinning around. She was caught off-guard by his sudden change in emotion, a small part of her fearing the fire in his eyes, if only for his sake. "Did you think that a feeble apology would take back everything you did? All the horror you caused?"

With every word, he seemed to edge closer to her. She'd never seen him like this, so unhinged. His voice got louder with every syllable. Members of the crew began to take pause in what they were doing to stare at them. Some of them, feeling protective of Elizabeth as she'd been something akin to a motherly figure, took several steps towards them. Their presence wasn't their only weapon… she had to get James to calm down before force was used.

"James, please—" she whispered, forcing herself not to turn around and inadvertently beg for help with her eyes. She had to do this on her own.

"Are you aware of what this has done to your father?"

Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought. She was angry with herself for not thinking of her father more often… had she really been so selfish in leaving with Jack? She missed her father terribly and James' words only served to hurt more, like adding salt to an open wound.

"Have you any idea the agony he goes through, day in and day out, wandering if you're alright? Have you even bothered to write him? Do you even care?"

He got so close she could smell what must have been grog on his breath when a heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. Jack squeezed her tightly before pushing her behind him.

"Have we a problem, here?" he asked. Elizabeth's tear-blurred eyes darted between the two men—her former fiancée and her current one. Jack was clearly upset, but his words did not hold the same venom that James' did.

"Here comes Captain Sparrow!" James shouted, a sarcastic smile spreading onto his dirty voice. His arms gestured about wildly as he spoke. "To the rescue, yet again."

"The only one I'm rescuin' is you, Commodore," Jack said, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. "Ye see, Lizzie's too soft on ye to beat ye senseless. An' I wouldn't dream of it, seein' as how it would serve to upset her more. But see those gents?" He motioned to the small group of onlookers, several with very cross looks on their hardened faces. "They don't give a bloody hoot as to whether you live or die."

"Listen to him, James. It's not worth it," Will said softly, standing just slightly behind Jack. Elizabeth stifled a gasp—she hadn't even noticed his descent from the rigging, let alone heard him approach. She furiously wiped her tears away, mortified at the attention this event had gotten.

James said nothing, but huffed out an angry breath of air. When he looked at her, her eyes shot away and instantly she'd wished she had the courage to do otherwise. She owed him so much more than that. He stomped off which such force that the mop he'd so carefully set aside crashed against the deck.

"Half a mind to lock him in the brig," Jack muttered.

"Don't," Elizabeth said sadly. "Just let him go."

"Thanks, mate," Jack casually said to Will. Will did nothing but simply nod and offer Elizabeth a sweet smile before turning away to attend to duties elsewhere.

"It's nice to see you and Will being so civil," she said quietly, refusing to look at him for fear that her emotions would run away with her.

"He's feeling thankful," Jack quickly explained. "I spoke to him about his father the other night, but that's neither here nor there. What was that about, Lizabeth?"

"Nothing," she quickly said. "I just—" She stared off in the direction that James had gone. "I needed to make amends."

"For what?" Jack crossed his arms, a solemn look crossing his face. Still, she refused to look at him. Noticing this, he took his fingers and placed them under her chin, tilting her head up towards his. "Lizzie, look at me." He paused for a moment before continuing. "For what?"

"You know what," she said quietly.

"You did what you had to do. You can't live yer life to make others happy, darlin'." She said nothing. Somewhere deep inside his chest, Jack felt a twinge of pain, a nagging doubt that made his head hurt. "Elizabeth, I made you a promise once… at any time, any time at all, you say the words and I'll take you back. No questions asked."

"No," Elizabeth assured him, placing one hand on the side of his face. "Don't you ever think for even a minute that I regret one moment of our lives together. You're my home and I'll never leave you. I just wish he hadn't gotten hurt in the process."

"Every war has its casualties," Jack said softly, quickly pecking a kiss on her forehead. A small, ingenuine smile crossed her lips. "Your heart's too big for your own good."

She chucked at that. "Yes, and you love me for it."

"Damn straight," he said with a smile and a nod, his thumb flicking softly across her chin. "And don't you forget it."

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**A/N: **Please, please, please review! It makes me want to update faster. :)

Thanks for reading! I'll see you all next time.


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